


Through Him, Me

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Tales from the Communal Kitchen (the ex-assassins files) [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Swap, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Freaky Friday - Freeform, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Panic Attacks, Rimming, Science Bros, The ex-assassins club has jackets, Tony No, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bucky STILL needs to stop punching things, canon-typical lack of dealing with mental issues, canon-typical lack of regard for physics, give me back my tony, if anyone deserves to get laid, minor Jessica/Steve, past bucky/natasha, stupid science, using someone else's body, you wouldn't like tony when he's angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony was just trying to help. Everyone knows that. No one is mad.Except Tony. Tony is really,reallymad.





	1. Monstrous Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/gifts).



_Bucky_

Bucky was contorted like a pretzel, twisted over backward in his favorite chair with his feet tossed over the back, reading choice bits of Tolkien’s signature work and arguing with Clint about whether it was, or was not, an anti-industrial screed set against an imaginary second World War. Clint was arguing back, thoughtful and with well-selected quotes, that the books were more about free will and fate. It was a colorful discussion, albeit with profanity-laced insults. They nearly smashed the coffee table when the argument about the addition of elves to the Battle of Helmsdeep in the movies turned into a wrestling match, until Tash started throwing popcorn at them and admonishing them to act their ages.

“Tash,” Bucky protested, “I’m almost a hundred years old. You don’t want me to act my age, or I’m going to be a racist old fuck, telling you to get the hell off my lawn and make me a sandwich.”

“Only if you wish to die a slow and painful death,” Tash said, smiling so sweetly that Bucky’s guts froze.

“Woah, dude,” Clint exclaimed. He punched Bucky in the nearest arm and then winced, because it turned out to be the left one. “You got the deathstare from Nat before noon. I think that’s a new record.” He disentangled himself from Bucky. “Coffee. Anyone want one?”

“Normal coffee, Clint,” Bucky said. “Not any of your melted coffee ice cream crap.”

“Do not diss my coffee, soldier boy,” Clint said, headed for the kitchen. “Nat?”

“Peppermint tea?”

“Ug. Wet weeds,” Clint muttered. “You got it.”

Bucky had just stuck his nose back in his book when the building shook like a tiny earthquake had struck. “What the fuck?”

Even as the words left his mouth, JARVIS triggered the building alarms, the particularly strident blare which meant “take cover now” and “we have acquired a Hulk.” From the lower floors, Bucky could hear the shouts and muffled panic as the building started evacuation protocols and lockdown.

Bucky rolled instantly to his feet and tried to swallow his panic. Tony had been in the lab with Bruce. He snagged a comlink and shoved it in his ear. Tash already had hers in and was talking.

“...no, don’t shoot at him, you idiots,” she said, “I’ll be right down and give him a lullabye. Don’t run, he’ll just chase you.”

“JARVIS, open this door _now_ ,” Bucky demanded, striding to the elevator.

“Mr. Barnes, the car is currently on the thirty-first floor,” JARVIS protested.

“Just open it.” Bucky reached back with his right arm and yanked Tash to him. “Buckle up, we’re going for a ride.”

Tash hooked her legs around his hips, one arm gripping across his chest. The elevator doors slid open and Bucky grabbed the reinforced elevator cables with his left hand. He jumped, his boots forming a clamp on either side of the line, and they slid down into the darkness.

“Aw,” Clint complained from above them as they vanished from sight. “Why do I always gotta take the stairs?”

***

“Woah!” Bucky tucked his shoulder and rolled, eating up the impact with a groan. “What the fuck did _I_ do?”

Within his limited emotional capacity of full-on rage, the Hulk was oddly logical. He didn’t tend to attack people who hadn’t started violence, unless they ran or otherwise acted like prey. Certainly, Bucky could understand that; fleeing people tended to nudge his own predatory instincts. But he and Tash had just arrived; some of the idiot security officers were shooting at the Hulk -- waste of ammo, that, and Pepper really needed to tighten the security screenings, because they should know better -- and Hulk decided to attack _Bucky_? How was that even fair?

“Got Stark,” Clint reported tersely. “He’s out like a motherfucking light, guys, so…”

“Is there aught I might do to assist?” Thor’s booming voice came over the comms.

“Oh, thank God,” Bucky said, fervently, trying to find a way out of the tangle and steel of lab equipment.

“Indeed, friend Barnes,” Thor said, “'Tis I.”

“JARVIS, start closing doors, let’s push him toward the Hulk Room, okay?”

“I’m in front,” Tash said, waving her arms over her head to get Hulk’s attention. The Hulk was grabbing through the mess of equipment, forcing Bucky to tear off a good deal of skin from his hand to get free and dodge grabbing green fingers that were as thick around as his wrist. Fuck, he’d forgotten Hulk was that damn big.

“Starting the push,” JARVIS reported.

The red of Tash’s hair caught Hulk’s attention for a moment, the flag in front of Banner’s deep-seated bull, and Bucky took the opportunity to squirm out of the wreckage. He hated being pinned down; it reminded him, sickeningly, of the helicarrier battle, where Steve had put his life at risk to get Bucky out from under a girder.

Hulk’s attention snapped back to Bucky, grabbing at him. Bucky shouted, swore, as Hulk grasped him. He was shaken like a doll’s rattle, and then, breath-stoppingly, _squeezed_.

“Tash, get him off me!” _Crack_. Bucky screamed, struggled, he was being crushed, then suddenly, there was a crackle of electricity as Thor landed in the room, all seven feet of godly thunder. Bucky lost track of things for a second as the Hulk tossed him to the floor.

“Do you wish to play, beast?” Thor said, grinning and twirling Mjölnir with eager anticipation. “Come, let’s play.”

Bucky gasped for air, laying on the floor and wishing for half a second that he was dead because those were busted ribs, and -- he screamed again, straining -- it always fucking _hurt_ when they snapped back into place. He struggled to his feet, pressing at the sore spots against his chest, pushing the bones back into alignment. Status: breathing unimpaired, no punctures in the lungs. Functionality: 68%. _Go get ‘em, soldier._

Thor was backing down the hall, tiny jagged crackles of lightning goading Bruce into lumbering down after him, busting ceiling tiles and smashing up the floor as he went. A particularly painful jolt burst across his legs and Bruce wiped out the entirety of Cho’s biological lab, and boy, wasn't she going to be _pissed_?

“I’m in position,” Tash reported. “Bring him to me.”

“As you say, Lady Natasha,” Thor agreed, cheerful, as if this was the most fun he’d had all week. _And Tony says_ I’m _an adrenaline junkie_ , Bucky thought. There was just something wrong with Thor on a molecular level; he was fucking deranged.

His pained crouch straightened out as Bucky’s rapid healing got to work. Something squeaked in the busted lab, and Bucky whirled to discover a supremely stupid lab tech, curled around a case of medical vials and cringing behind a shattered workstation. “Holy shit, moron,” Bucky snapped. “Get the fuck out of here, don’t you know what an all-hands evacuate is?”

“Mr. Stark stressed that these were very important,” the tech said, clutching the case. “Vitally important.”

Bucky was pretty certain Tony hadn’t meant that they were important enough to ignore an evacuation order -- the few things in the Tower that were that critical were kept in the vault in Bruce’s lab -- but this wasn’t the time to argue it. Bucky sighed. “Yeah, give ‘em to me, get OUT of here.”

Bucky stashed the case out of sight and hoofed it down the hall. He arrived just in time to watch Tash gracefully flip out of the way as Hulk thundered into the room, roaring. Thor slammed the door in place and the pneumatics hissed as the lock engaged.

“Wow,” Bucky said. Hulk was hunched over inside the nine-foot cage, slamming at the floor in fury. “He is pissed today.”

“Yeah,” Tash said, touching the glass -- not technically glass at all, but a specially designed, transparent poly-carbonate barrier, but it was just easier to call it glass -- where Hulk’s hand rested for a moment. She jerked it away, reflexive, when Hulk bellowed again, smashing at the place where her fingers had touched. That was not normal at all. Hulk was fanatical about Tash’s safety, in either of his forms, which had made for a strained relationship at times, since Tash refused, point blank, to stop Avenging. “Wonder what Tony did to him this time?”

Bucky snorted. “Why is it always gotta be something _Tony_ did?”

Hulk roared again, lunging for the glass, grasping for Bucky. The glass had been tested thoroughly and even the Hulk couldn’t break it, but Bucky took a prudent step back, nonetheless. “Nevermind,” he said. “I forgot. Rule 14 of living in Avenger’s Tower.”

Thor brushed his hands off, looking satisfied. “‘Tis _always_ Anthony’s fault,” he agreed.

 


	2. Terrible Tuesday

_Bruce_

“‘M fine,” Barnes was grumbling as Bruce slowly clawed his way back to consciousness. “Get off me, Helen.”

“I have long noted your aversion to medical care, Mr. Barnes,” Helen Cho said sharply. “And I have also noticed your tendency to avoid x-rays when you know you have broken bones. The Hulk crushed your rib cage, so you’ll understand my reluctance to take your word for it that you’re _fine_.”

Bruce was lying on what was probably a hospital bed, initial confusion rapidly giving way to guilt. The dark voice, the unfiltered spill of his rage and fear that he thought of as _the Other Guy_ , was strangely silent. Which was almost too bad, because when Bruce was concentrating on controlling his anger, the guilt and self-loathing took a backseat to maintaining his zen.

“Look, I know that damn thing’s mobile. If you wanna get up close and personal with my respiratory system, great, fine, have at, but I ain’t leavin’ this room until Tony wakes up, and that is a fact.”

“I know you’ve heard this before, Mr. Barnes,” Dr. Cho said, puffing out breath with exasperation, “but Mr. Stark is not an enhanced human and sleep is the best cure for a bump on the head. He was semi-responsive last night, and his EEG patterns indicate normal sleep cycles. No brain damage, this time.” She stressed that, and Bruce relaxed minutely. He didn’t think anyone was up to another round of Amnesiacs Are Us in Avenger’s Tower.

“Gonna make you wear a helmet, you dumbass,” Barnes directed, probably at Tony.

Bruce was surprised to be waking up in medical; what the hell had happened? He vaguely recalled setting up the lab for another stab at what Tony had taken to calling Hulk’s Little Blue Pill. Since Bruce and Natasha had officially started dating, there’d been a lot of good-natured ribbing and some more dirty jokes, and a bit of honest, actual concern about the state of their sex life.

Of course, they didn’t really _have_ a sex life. Not the sort of loud, crazy, getting deep into people’s personal spaces that Tony and Bucky had, for instance. Or Jane and Thor -- whenever Jane could be spared from her research, it seemed she and Thor were making it rain, _literally_ \-- even indoors, sometimes. Even Steve and Jessica had sexed it up with some very audible bedroom athletics from time to time.

Nat promised that she didn’t mind, that she was perfectly content with the situation as it was -- she’d had sex so often and with so many people for reasons that had nothing to do with trust or intimacy that she was mostly done with that sort of thing -- but Bruce _wasn’t_ asexual, he just got less action than your average Franciscan monk. The risk of turning into the Hulk during an intimate moment was too great for him to ever be able to forget.

“Science,” Tony had stated, rubbing his hands together in that way that meant he’d had an idea. An awful idea. Tony had a wonderful, awful idea… “--got you into this mess. So, we just gotta science the shit out of it, and get you some relief.”

It was almost always easier to go along with what Tony wanted than to stand in his way. Who knew? Maybe Tony could actually help. It had been known to happen -- and more often than anyone might think. And more painful experiments had been run on Bruce than this, for ends much less pleasant.

And Bruce could recall them both being wired up to a brain-scanner, with JARVIS monitoring them while they compared their genius-level brains. Tony made _that_ joke and Bruce had grinned at him, but what they were really doing was establishing a baseline for a normal, un-chemically altered brain, comparing it to the sort of emotional garbage that clouded up Bruce’s own thought processes. (Did Tony’s brain count as normal? Bruce had asked, and then Tony had swatted him for it, laughing. But that wouldn’t have set off the Hulk, even under stress; the Hulk _trusted_ Tony.)

What had happened after that? Bruce left his eyes closed while Barnes and Dr. Cho argued about whether or not Barnes was going to let her tape up the busted ribs. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything after. Damn it. Well, at least if the Hulk had hurt someone, it was Barnes, with his enhanced healing, and not Clint or Tony. Not that that was very much comfort.

It was a blank. Bruce remembered a hint of pain, just behind his eyes and then… he must have Hulked out then, and it must have been a bad one, because he didn’t remember a bit of it, not even flashes or impressions. And as quiet as the Other Guy was now, he must have utterly _exhausted_ himself.

And now, apparently, he was waking up in the same recovery room with Tony, and that didn’t make a lick of sense. Why wasn’t he in one of the containment cells, sleeping off his green skin?

Bruce groaned and pressed his hand to his forehead. Damn, his head hurt, and that was weird, really, really weird, because he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual headache. (He accused Tony of causing him headaches all the time, mostly because Tony reacted to it with childlike glee.) But even when he’d tried to swallow a bullet and the Other Guy had spit it out for him, he hadn’t had any real pain when he’d woken.

But his head _did_ hurt, and come to think of it, so did his shoulders. And his wrist. And--

“Get offa me,” Barnes yelled from across the room and there was the tell-tale clatter of machinery, as the Winter Soldier was not exactly what anyone would call a restrained and careful human being. “Tony, oh, God, honey, are you okay?”

Bruce didn’t even hear Tony’s answer as a mouth came down on his. Someone was kissing him and he knew Nat’s lips and these were _not Nat’s lips._ Bruce opened his eyes and _shoved_ , as hard as he could.

Shoving at the Winter Soldier was like trying to move a brick wall crossed with an octopus, but Bruce managed it, and the look on Barnes’s face was half impossible hurt and half wide-eyed panic.

“Fuck, fuck, Tony if you’ve lost your memories again, I will fucking kill you, I cannot do this again, I swear to Christ I can not.”

And before Bruce could make sense of that, at all, he was struck numb by the fact that those were not _his hands._ He turned his wrists and looked at them in horror. His own forearms were dusted with black curls, his hands clean and (since he’d started spending more time with Natasha) neatly manicured. These wrists had only a fine dusting of dusky hair, the nails clipped impossibly short and stained black around the edges with what looked like grease or tar. His heart thundered in his chest, approaching dangerous levels and he tried to calm himself, but nothing happened.

_Nothing happened._

“What the--” and it not his voice. Not his, not his at all, but familiar and strained with panic. Bruce snatched up a silver tray from the medical table and peered into it. Tony’s face stared back at him.

“Um. Okay, in our defense, this was not the expected outcome,” Bruce said, touching his cheek and watching as Tony-in-the-mirror poked at his face.

“Tony, what the hell?”

“Tony what the hell, indeed,” Bruce said. “Yeah, I don’t know what he did, but I… I am not Tony. Which means Tony… is probably the Hulk.”

Barnes’ face went through a virtual kaleidoscope of emotion, by turns aghast, horrified, disgusted, freaked out, and otherwise disturbed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re _fucking_ kidding me.”

“Would I lie?”

“Tony absolutely would,” Barnes said, flat. “He absolutely _would_ , and then I would absolutely murder him, so he’d better not be, because this ain’t fuckin’ funny.”

“You’re telling me,” Bruce sighed. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Cho said, shouldering her way past Barnes to shine a penlight into Bruce’s eyes, vastly exacerbating his headache. “You got hit by the Hulk.”

“I don’t see how that’s different.”

Barnes glared, gestured to his taped up ribs. “Hulk hits harder, for one.”

***

_Natasha_

Bruce had finally tired himself out and gone to sleep. His body rippled and shrank and leached of its color, and the shape of Bruce's shoulders and back emerged from under the Hulk's massive bulk. His back was to her, so she couldn't watch the way his brow appeared, his eyes, his chin, but she'd seen it before.

After the full-on rampage he'd had, he should sleep for hours. She watched anyway, standing in front of the clear wall, thick as aquarium glass and twenty times as strong. His back rose and fell with each breath, and she matched them, feeling their unhappy and restless rhythm.

The lullabye hadn't worked.

The lullabye hadn't failed for _months_ , since long before she and Bruce had begun stepping around each other in a dance of possibility. Something truly terrible must have happened, to make that hard-won trust and careful conditioning fail. She hoped Tony would wake soon -- he might have answers.

She hoped Tony wasn't too badly hurt, but couldn't bring herself to leave Bruce's side. Yasha was with Tony, and would tell her if there was news.

Bruce stirred, already close to waking. He would be shivering and ravenous, after so much rage, so much effort.

As if the thought had summoned him, Steve appeared, coming alongside her with a heavily-laden tray in his hands and several thick blankets over his shoulder. "How is he?"

"Resting, I think, but not very well." She took the blankets and laid them on a chair.

Steve set the tray on top of them. "Any idea what set it off?"

She shook her head. "No. And it was... I think he _recognized_ me, but he wasn't sure who I was, if that makes sense. That's never happened before, not since that first time."

Steve grimaced. "Not more amnesia, I hope. Three months of Tony and I going back to square one every day was about all I could stand."

Natasha smiled up at him. "At least you and Bruce didn't get off to such a rocky start?" she offered.

Steve snorted and started to say something, then nodded toward Bruce. "He's waking up."

She looked. Sure enough. His limbs were twitching and shuddering. Whatever it was, he'd definitely been rocked hard; Bruce usually slept much more calmly. She eased one of the blankets out from under the tray. "I'll get him settled and then you can bring in the rest," she said.

Steve didn't protest, which was good, because she wouldn't have listened to it. She made her way through the airlock-style door, and walked on light feet to where Bruce was lying to carefully drape the blanket over him. "Bruce?" she said softly.

Bruce stirred, groaned, and flopped onto his back. His eyes were still closed; in fact, he squeezed them even more tightly shut. He rubbed a hand over his face, and mumbled something inarticulate.

Natasha smiled a little. "Come on, wake up a little so you can eat, big guy."

Bruce made a questioning noise and opened his eyes. The instant they locked onto her face, his pupils disappeared into pinpricks and the brown irises rippled with green. His teeth ground together. "Out," he snarled.

"Bruce, it's okay, you're--"

" _Get. OUT!_ " he roared, rolling up onto all fours. His back heaved as if he was vomiting, and for an instant Natasha was confused, and then she saw the tint of green. This wasn't Bruce's usual smooth transition, but the lurching, painful transformation that meant he was fighting it.

"Natasha," Steve's voice said over the speaker, urgent.

"Yeah," she said. She backed hastily toward the door, but couldn't help pausing at the threshold. "Bruce, it's me," she tried again, her voice calm and easy the way her thoughts were not.

He lifted his head and bared his teeth at her, a savage animal gone mad with pain.

She ducked through the door, and no sooner had it latched when she heard -- _felt_ \-- the shock of him slamming into it. A roar shook the small airlock, and she stumbled back out the other door gracelessly. Steve caught her, his own eyes wide with surprise.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I think he was holding it off as long as he could so I could get out."

Steve looked through the glass at the shrieking monster tearing at the unyielding walls with his fists. "Next time he wakes up," he said slowly, "I think we need to wait on this side until we know he's rational."

***

_Steve_

Bruce went through four more changes, the Hulk popping out as soon as Bruce had regained any strength at all. He almost calmed down once, wrapping his arms around his head and swearing. “God, god, how does he, I can't, it's too--” And then he erupted again.

“Jesus, Nat,” Steve said, shaking his head. “What the hell did they do?”

Bucky stormed into the room, shirtless, his ribs and arm taped up with bandages, so aggravated that he was all the way back into what Tony called his murder strut, all implacable killing force and graceful intimidation. Not a look Steve was ever happy to see.

Tony followed along behind, slumping and wretched.

Steve stared; Tony hadn’t looked this terrible after he’d returned from the Chitauri portal, had been back to joking around as soon as his faceplate popped open. Steve had seen Tony angry, seen him ashamed, and seen him defensive, but Steve had never seen anything like that look on Tony’s face.

Bucky slammed past Steve without even acknowledging him and placed his hand on the glass of the Hulk’s safety room. “Oh, baby, what did you do?”

Nat went deathly pale, turning away from the Hulk to stare at Tony.

“Bruce?”

Tony… except it wasn’t… reached up to touch Nat’s face, the same shy, hesitant gestures that Steve was used to seeing on Bruce. And now that he had a frame of reference for it, Steve recognized that look as Bruce’s post-Hulkout misery.

“Sorry,” he said. Then Nat was in his arms, and he lowered his face to--

“No, fucking no, don’t you _even_ ,” Bucky yelled, grabbing Natasha’s arm and dragging her back away from Bruce/Tony. “That doesn’t belong to you. Just don’t even go there.”

“Hey, team,” Clint said, walking in and stopping dead at the tug-of-war. Jess, coming in behind him, walked right into his back, causing a Newton’s cradle of stumbling until they were both fully in the room. “The hell, Jones?”

“You just _stopped_ ,” Jess snarked. “Stopping in the doorway is a dick move.” She looked at Bucky’s hand still clamped on Nat’s arm, then turned a raised eyebrow on Steve, which he felt was a little unfair. It wasn’t _his_ fault that his friends were like this. “So... JARVIS called an all-hands. What’s going on?”

Nat was ignoring everyone else, glaring at Bucky as if she was ready to drop right back into that life-and-death struggle they’d had in DC, complete with garotting wire. “Even if I grant that Tony _belongs_ to you, he’s not in there right now.”

“Natasha,” Bruce/Tony said, voice trembling as if he were going to fall over. Nat grabbed Bucky’s wrist with her hands, pivoted, and threw Bucky off, his body crashing up against the wall of the Hulk Room. She reached out for Bruce/Tony’s hands, concern written large in her body language.

“Nat!” Steve gasped. He hadn’t felt this out of his depth in years. Alien invasions, Nazis, monomaniacal supervillains, and killer robots, he knew how to handle. Body-swapped friends and jealousy swiftly ramping into physical violence? Not so much.

“My Christ,” Bucky swore, turning away, one hand going up to cover his face. “Okay, yeah, I get it, but could you just… stop _baiting_ me? I can’t _watch_ that. I’m barely hangin’ in here as it is.” Bucky’s attention was drawn by the green monster inside the cage, who was thumping at the glass just over Bucky’s head, and slowly, slowly, the skin faded and Tony/Bruce shrank, cried out, and then was suddenly fully human, shivering against the glass. “Tony? Oh, Tony, baby…”

Tony/Bruce licked his lips, reached out. “Bucky?”

“What in the Nine Realms has occurred?” Thor thundered. Tony/Bruce writhed, his back heaving, eyes going green again, staring daggers at the Asgardian.

“Shut up, you’re makin’ him nervous,” Bucky snapped, then touched the glass. “Hey, Zhelezoska, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s me. Come on, baby, stay with me, just a few minutes, okay?”

“It’s like _Freaky Friday_ ,” Clint murmured, looking somewhat awed. “So cool.”

“So not cool,” Tony/Bruce muttered. “Thirsty…”

“I remember this film,” Thor boomed. “And Loki has, on occasion, managed mischief of this level; albeit, he is usually in control of the illusions, wreaking havoc by posing as one of the Warriors Three.”

Clint shuddered. “Have I mentioned how happy I am that Loki’s dead?” He didn’t quite say this loud enough for Thor to notice, but Steve heard every word and fervently agreed, although he’d never voice such a thing in Thor’s presence.

“Is there a sitrep in the universe that can make this make sense?” Steve asked, plaintive. “Why… what did you think you were doing?”

Bucky bundled blankets, a few bottles of water, and a snack into the smaller feeding hatch; smart. Tony/Bruce was still way too unstable to risk anyone going in there with him. Tony/Bruce cracked a bottle and drank noisily, water gushing over his chin when he couldn’t swallow fast enough.

“Careful, Tony,” Bruce/Tony said. “If you get water-cramps, the Other Guy’s going to pop right back out.”

“That’s so _weird_ ,” Jess complained, “hearing Banner’s words coming out in Stark’s voice.”

“ _Weird_ is a word,” Nat said. She tossed a furious glance over her shoulder at Bucky, who was still crooning soothingly to Tony/Bruce. She caught Steve’s gaze and Steve could almost hear all the curses and complaints she was making just with the shape of her eyes and the flat line of her mouth.

Tony/Bruce finished his water and turned his back on them, resting against the glass in a desolate, miserable pose.

“So,” Steve said, shaking himself off. “How did this happen? And what are we going to do to fix it?”

Bruce/Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I get all the hard questions?”

 


	3. Weird Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: The first scene of this chapter contains a moderately vivid panic attack; readers are advised to use their own discretion and keep track of their comfort levels.

_Tony_

_Christ_ , this was hard. How the fuck did Bruce do it? Tony was suddenly in awe of every time Bruce had rolled his eyes or smirked or fondly shoved Tony aside when Tony had been literally poking the beast. If their situations had reversed -- as, apparently, they now _were_...

It seemed to work a little differently for Tony, though. The Hulk manifested for Bruce through anger, but the transformation seemed to overtake Tony through fear. And of course, the constant low level of worry and concern and suppressed panic that Tony lived with every day had been magnified by... by whatever weird chemicals were floating around Bruce’s brain, Tony supposed.

Focusing on Bucky helped; Bucky had talked Tony through so many panic attacks that the sound of his voice was immediately soothing. Thinking about science helped; there wasn’t a lot of room for panic in science and math.

But every time Tony’s attention wavered, he wondered what would happen if they never switched back. He worried that he had hurt Bucky and Natasha during that initial rampage more than they were showing. He thought about the alien artifacts in the vault. The weaknesses in the current armor. The suffocating black of space. Choking water climbing down his throat--

“ _Tony! Come on, babe, come back to me.”_

Shit, he’d nearly lost it again. Thank god Bucky was keeping watch. He had to stop thinking about that stuff, had to concentrate, focus. Complex but unemotional mechanical problems, that was the key: how to improve the hydraulic fluid system in the armor without too much effect on its bulk and weight. It had to be watertight, airtight, because he’d taken the suit to so many places he’d never thought--

Don’t think about that.

Don’t think about the elephant in the room. Don’t look at it. Don’t worry about it.

What’s to worry about? Alien invasion, a wormhole floating over the Tower, motherships the size of New Jersey. Hydra leftovers with supercharged weapons trying to reclaim Bucky and turn him back into a mindless weapon. Half-competent scientists with a grudge against Tony coming at him by attacking the people he loved. Electrical shocks that wiped out years of memory. Terrorists who repeatedly drowned him, sparks flaring from the battery hooked to his chest--

(there was a voice, dim and muffled, but he couldn’t hear it for the roar of pain and fear and guilt)

\--betrayal from near-family, literally ripping his heart from his chest; attack drones with their weapons pointed at innocents; Pepper falling into an inferno, fingers missing Tony’s by mere centimeters; the stench of fear in a freezing cave where a man who should have despised Tony quietly saved him while planning to die; the sudden shock on Maya’s face when Killian shot her; death after death after death caused by weapons with Tony’s name on them, blood enough to drown whole nations...

He surrendered to the beast again, too tired to hold it back, guiltily relieved to hand over the burden.

***

_Bruce_

“Hey there, big guy,” Nat said, leaning in the doorway of the shattered remains of Bruce’s lab.

Bruce tilted the computer upright, fascinated by the flow and ebb of Tony’s muscles moving. Unlike the rest of the team, Bruce never did much physical if he could avoid it: no sparring in the gym, no weight lifting, no running. The risks weren’t worth the cardio, and it wasn’t like he needed to practice to keep his strength up. Tony was shorter than everyone on the team except Natasha, but he was a wiry little bastard, and unexpectedly strong from lifting car engines and robots, not to mention frequently wearing a fucking suit of armor like a medieval knight. It felt… good, to use his body, to process endorphins, to feel the flex of muscle and the ache of straining just a little too hard.

“I brought reinforcements,” Natasha said, drawing him from his thoughts and observations. She gestured to Clint and Sam, just behind her. “Obviously, we can’t science for you, but most of us are pretty good at picking stuff up and putting it down.”

Bruce chuckled. “Yeah, even with JARVIS riding the rails, I can’t get DUM-E or U to do anything. They’re highly displeased. That damn pet Roomba of Barnes’ actually _attacked_ me this morning.”

“What’d you do?” Clint asked, finding a pushbroom and starting the process of cleaning up all the smashed glass and debris.

“I might have left it under a master-grade magnet,” Bruce confessed.

“Harsh,” Sam said. “No wonder they won’t clean in here around you.”

Bruce turned back to his work, shaking his head. It had felt liberating in a terrible way, to take out his aggressions on something small and not have to worry about consequences. Yeah, DOB-E was pissed as hell -- Barnes had been encouraging some really radical behavior out of the bots -- but the stupid, belligerent thing wasn’t actually hurt. It hadn’t really hurt him, either, just run over his foot and then made a bunch of angry noises, like R2-D2 had an indignant love baby with a vacuum-cleaner.

At first, cleaning the lab was nice. Domestic. Soothing. Sam and Clint exchanged what amounted to witty banter between them, dialog barely a step above “yo mama” and “I know you are, but what am I”, but it was familiar and amusing. Natasha was quiet, but every time Bruce stopped to look at her, she was watching him with strange emotions dancing behind her eyes that warmed him and made him nervous at the same time.

It took him longer than he would have liked to recognize the look, and once he did, it broke over him like the shockwave of a bomb. He sat down, hard.

Lust.

They’d been careful, so very careful. Wanting her always left him in a state of agitation, because he couldn’t have what he wanted. They’d experimented, a bit, and Bruce had a good memory of what Natasha looked like in those moments, all simple beauty and easy grace, moving over him where she could flee in an instant if -- sometimes _when_ \-- she needed to. But those memories were tainted with self-hatred, the ugly knowledge he could kill her entirely by accident.

But now he was watching her aim that look at what was, essentially, _Tony’s_ body. _That doesn’t belong to you,_ Barnes had snapped, his face a perfect illustration of possessive jealousy. That Natasha could look like _that_ , while looking at _him_...

Bruce wasn’t sure whether she was the only one who didn’t really grasp how fucked up the situation was, or the only one who was completely certain of exactly what the situation was.

As if reading his thoughts, she moved closer and lowered her voice, “I knew it was you. You can’t hide from me in another body, Bruce. I can see you, in the way your eyes move, in the way you’re not a twitchy little fuck the way Tony is. The way you stand, the way you tilt your head. If Tony hadn’t been hiding Hulk’s face from me, I’d have known what was happening right then, or at least suspected. It just hadn’t occurred to me that it was _possible_.”

Bruce inhaled. He still couldn’t really understand what this beautiful, amazing, insightful woman saw in him. Liking her at all had seemed like a curse, a warning, a premonition of everything he should never do, shouldn’t want, couldn’t have. In the end, the relationship had been more driven by her stubbornness than anything else, because he’d have never said a word. He’d have been content just to watch her when he didn’t think she was looking, so that he didn’t have to leave rather than put her at risk.

She’d convinced him that she could handle it, that she could handle him, and they could have love, affection, and more, that they both deserved to be _able to have_ those things. “ _If you run just because you're too afraid to reach for what you want, Bruce, I will hunt you down and I will never stop,”_ she’d threatened, and finally, finally, he’d taken the idea seriously.

He lowered his gaze, not quite ready to see her face. “God, I love you,” he said, giving the floor a careful inspection.

She put her fingers under his jaw and lifted his chin. “I know.” And she kissed him.

An actual kiss. Not the tentative, careful pecks that he’d allowed, watching his heartbeat monitor over her shoulder. This was a _kiss_ , tongue and teeth and lips, and it hit him, panting hard into her mouth, that he didn’t have to _worry_. She wrapped around him like an aggressive octopus. Her scent was everywhere and he’d have taken her to the floor in that moment--

“Oh, come on, why?” Clint wailed, hands flailing. “I… that… no, that’s just _not right_.”

Bruce ducked his chin, trying not to smile and failing miserably, even as heat rushed to his cheeks and throat. He’d completely forgotten that Clint and Sam were in the room, and losing track of his situational awareness was not a thing he ever, ever did. “Um, if you mind not mentioning that to certain friends of ours,” Bruce muttered, “I’d appreciate it.”

“Hey, I never thought I’d see Stark blush,” Sam chimed in, looking down at his phone, and oh, good lord, he did not just take a _goddamn picture_. Shit, shit, shit. Barnes was going to kill Bruce, and Bruce was going to deserve it.

***

_Clint_

When things went to shit in the Avengers Tower, they did so in a hell of a hurry.

 _Bed Stuy,_ Clint promised himself. He wouldn’t always stay there, of course not, but sometimes it’d just be nice to have normal, ordinary problems, like running out of toilet paper at the wrong moment. Maybe he’d get a dog.

Watching Bruce/Tony bending Nat over backwards, even accidentally in all the damn reflective surfaces all over the lab, had been damned uncomfortable, because it still looked like Tony and that was just… very wrong. Mostly because Nat absolutely would have banged Tony, once upon a time, if Fury had told her to. The best thing about being an Avenger rather than an agent of SHIELD, as far as Clint was concerned, was that Nat got a lot more agency in her assignments.

Ha. Agent. Agency. He’d made a pun without meaning to. He choked on his own giggles, trying to avoid Bruce/Tony’s gaze. Bruce’s zen attitude sat weirdly on Tony’s body, but not half as weird as the I’m Going to Hulk Out look. Especially when there was no Hulk in there, just… weird little rage flashes.

Clint couldn’t even figure out what Bruce/Tony was mad _about_ , but those glowers were unmistakable.

Little things set them off, like when Clint put a computer down too hard and it banged against the table-top. And okay, so Clint’s joke about Nat dating down, if she was going to switch from Bruce to Tony might not have exactly been funny, but it was typical Clint and therefore no one paid attention. Normally. Sam and Clint stopped trading jokes, or making conversation, just saying a lot with exchanged glances and worried looks. It was an awful lot like when Dad had been on a bender and he and Barney had snuck around the house, terrified of making a noise. And Clint was afraid of _Bruce_ for the first time in forever, and then furious that Bruce had made him afraid.

Without even really doing anything.

For the first time, Clint really believed what Bruce had said so long ago, during the Battle of New York.

_You want to know my secret? I’m always angry._

***

_Natasha_

“I get where Barnes is coming from,” Natasha said, letting Bruce rest his head in her lap while she combed through his hair with her fingers. “Whatever you do while you’re in Tony’s body is going to affect him after you’re long gone.”

Bruce sighed. “It still… I mean, I am me. I feel like me. With a few exceptions. You ever notice how Tony does this sort of skip-jump while he’s walking with Steve? I always thought it was just because he’s hyper and excitable, but it’s also because his legs are shorter and Steve always walks like his destination is going to move before he gets there. It’s hard to keep up.”

“And Tony’s still Tony, even if he’s having a terrible time with the Hulk. You don’t want him to do anything permanent that you’ll have to live with later, do you?”

“Assuming we can fix this,” Bruce said, his eyes closed. He didn’t voice the thought behind it, the selfish, terrible thought, but Natasha knew it was there. If they couldn’t… if Tony was the one forever saddled with the burden of the Hulk… Bruce was one of the best, most decent men that Natasha knew, but being free of the Hulk was an awful temptation.

“I have confidence in you,” Natasha said. She didn’t resist as he drew her down for a kiss.

“I wouldn’t do anything permanent to Tony,” Bruce said. “No stupid tattoos or terrible haircuts.”

“No, that would be Clint who’d do something like that,” she said. “But sex, Bruce? That can be pretty permanent. I know people like to pretend it’s 'just a thing,' but if it was, I wouldn’t have been able to use it to manipulate targets as well as I did. Loving someone leaves marks.”

“Oh, come on,” Bruce said. “We all know Tony’s past. It’s not like he hasn’t had sex a thousand times with people he doesn’t even remember.”

“And that was _his_ choice,” Natasha reminded him, gently.

“It was his choice that we’re in this mess in the first place. I mean, if he wasn’t…” Bruce broke off, looking suddenly embarrassed and ashamed. That was interesting.

“If he wasn’t what?”

Bruce heaved out a breath and sat up, scrubbing at his face with both hands. The gesture that was one hundred percent Tony, and Natasha was suddenly concerned about the long-term effects of living in someone else’s body. Not a thing that had come up before, so it wasn’t like anyone could consult Web MD. It would probably only throw back a diagnosis of cancer, anyway.

“Tony’s got some crazy idea about my being able to take a pill, or an injection or something. So that I could be safe. For a little while, at least. He calls it Hulk-Viagra. Obviously, this isn’t what we expected to happen, we were just mapping comparative brain scans. What?”

Natasha blinked, her eyes burning. “It’s just… sweet. Of Tony, I mean.” It was weird, and a little sleazy, but it was one-hundred percent pure Tony; all big dramatic gestures, the inability to keep out of other people’s space, and just a little bit clueless. Might well have been the nicest thing he’d ever done for her. “Doesn’t change the fact that if we… do anything, it might as well be rape.”

Bruce flinched and she had to press her hands against his chest to keep him from leaping off the sofa to pace around in agitation.

“But… maybe not. Safe, sane, consensual, that’s Clint’s motto, right?” she said, calming him, still in the “prevent a Hulk-out” habit that she’d had for months now, so long it was second nature. Or even, given how much she loved the big guy, first nature. “So… permission.”

Bruce blushed furiously, which looked out of place on Tony’s handsome, sly features. “This is something _you’re_ actually considering?”

Natasha stretched out a little, letting her fingers brush his shoulder. “There would be no point in asking Tony for permission if I was not entertaining the notion, would there?”

“Barnes is going to kill me,” Bruce muttered, still blushing.

“He won’t. Not while you’re in Tony’s body,” Natasha said. “Nor can he, once you’re not. And I’ll talk with him. He loves me almost as much as he loves Tony.”

Bruce flinched and Natasha hid her grimace. She shouldn’t have reminded him of that; Bruce was used to keeping his Hulk and his anger and his jealousy under wraps, but the fact that Yasha had known her intimately was a bit of a sore spot.

“So, if I’m entertaining the notion,” she said, running her finger up the side of his neck and just behind his ear where she knew he liked it, so much, “you need to ask yourself if this is something you’re comfortable with?”

“Being with you, like actually _with_ you?” Bruce turned an astonished gaze on her. “Nat, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sex changes people, Bruce,” she said, simple, and almost sad. “Will you be okay with it in three weeks, when everything is back to normal--”

“Don’t commit me to an unrealistic timeline,” Bruce cautioned.

She gave him that, wide eyed with innocence. “And here, I thought you might think I was not giving you enough credit.” Bruce laughed, which is what she was aiming for. “So, when things are back to normal, and Tony’s being his normal, flirty self, do you think you’ll be okay with it, if he says something to me, and you remember that it was _Tony's_ bodythat I laid down with and surrendered to?”

For just an instant, his jaw clenched, eyes sparking, and Natasha was extra glad he couldn’t Hulk out. Then he was on his feet and pieces of Tony’s suit were whizzing in through the room, all bright glitter and deadly clatter.

Natasha was across the room and lowered in a defensive crouch before she realized what had happened.

Bruce, enclosed in the Iron Man suit, held up his hands to stare down at the gauntlets, the repulsors shining in the dim room.

“JARVIS!” Natasha didn’t mean to yell, it was just the shock of it.

“Yes, of course, Agent Romanov.” And the suit fell to pieces around Bruce. “With Mr. Stark unable to give orders, I did not think the suit’s safety protocols were a risk. Forgive me. I will deactivate all capabilities until he can be consulted.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Natasha said. “And that--” She turned on Bruce with the mildest, least judgmental expression she could find in her repertoire. “--is exactly what I’m talking about. Know yourself, Bruce, before we do something that cannot be undone.”

 

 


	4. Thoughtful Thursday

_Bucky_

Bucky was sitting on the floor, his back against the glass of the Hulk enclosure -- Tony didn’t really like being looked at while he was in this condition, and Bucky didn’t blame him, but it made conversation a bit difficult -- when the Avengers Assemble alert went off. Bucky groaned, got to his feet and grabbed his comm unit.

“Steve, I’mma sit this one out, okay? Tony needs me.”

“No, you are not,” Steve snapped back.

“Steve--”

“Winter Soldier, you get your ass in your gear and then you get your ass in the Quinjet. Wheels up in fifteen, we’re swinging by the Baxter Building to pick up Thing and the Human Torch. We are already down two, so I need all available hands for this one. Do not argue with me. Cap out.”

Bucky blinked. “Well. Yes, sir, Captain Rogers, sir.” He mocked a salute, frowning. “Tony, babe… I…”

Tony made a soft whining noise in the back of his throat, but then shook it off. “Go on,” he said hoarsely. “He wouldn’t... not if he didn’t really need you. I’ll. I’m.” He took a few deep breaths, panting, and managed, “Be safe. Leave your shirt?”

Bucky nodded, stripping off the tee -- one of his favorites, a Captain America promo that he’d picked up at a street vendor a month or so back -- and the thermal underneath, baring his chest. He shoved both into the dispensary and shoved it through to Tony.

“I love you,” he said, pressing his hand to the glass. “It’ll be fine.”

Tony snorted at the design as he fished the shirts out of the bin, then looked up to press his hand against Bucky’s. “This is some next level Star Trek shit, here.” He managed a small smile and a look into Bucky’s face. “Love you too.”

“JARVIS, keep me informed, on a private line.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

“Right,” Bucky walked backward out of the Hulk room, never taking his eyes off Tony, then shut the door behind him. He whirled, punched the wall hard enough to crack the concrete behind the plaster. He pulled his fist back in a puff of dust. “Right. Winter Soldier, comms on. What’s the sitch?”

“We get to bash some beekeepers,” Clint said, all gleeful anticipation.

“Don’t get cocky, Hawkeye,” Natasha came on coms. “We’ve got a sighting of the Chaired Menace.”

“M.O.D.O.K.? That’s always exciting,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, mind control, laser beams, missiles, and shields,” Colonel Rhodes came on comms. “Lots of excitement. Cap, I’m en route from DC, be there in 16 minutes.”

“Thanks for joining the party, Iron Patriot,” Cap said. Bucky wasn’t sure who said it first, but a cluster of muttered “War Machine” corrections dumped into the comm chatter.

Bucky threw on his gear, grabbing extra guns and ammo and wishing, for just a few seconds, that he had a tac-team backing him up, just goons to throw him a spare rifle when he needed it. The kind of team that he’d usually had backing him on Hydra missions. He’d only been on a few calls with the Avengers so far, and he’d been pretty fucked up during the last one. What the hell was going to happen if he got himself busted up and Tony couldn’t even… Yeah, not thinking about that, because Tony was going to lose his shit if Bucky got hurt again. So, plan: don’t get hurt.

He thumbed micro-grenades into his belt, letting his thoughts clear. _Soldier has discretion._

“How’s he holding up, J?”

“So far, so good, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS said, soft, in his ear. “I will inform you if his status changes.”

There was nothing he could do. Bucky took a deep breath, held it, and the Winter Soldier expelled it. By the time his boots hit the floor in the Quinjet, he was fully focused and ready. The only one to beat him to the jet was Jones, who dressed faster than anyone the Winter Soldier had ever met. Her silver and lavender armored jumpsuit was oddly cheerful, even if her scowl didn’t match it. She seemed to understand that he wasn’t in the headspace for idle chatter, and just nodded at him as he strode past her. Black Widow took her seat in the pilot’s chair. He took co, and half rotated to watch the rest of the team come aboard. There was a big empty space in the air outside the cockpit where Iron Man usually hovered, waiting for them to be ready.

“You gonna do the superhero landing again, Barnes?” Hawkeye asked. “Last time, that jump. Wow. How do you walk with balls that big?”

Winter Soldier gave Hawkeye a look, capital L, from behind his tac-goggles and didn’t answer.

“It always creeps me out when he does that,” Sam said. “Don’t you think? Just a little creepy?”

Captain America boarded. “Wheels up, team,” he said, banging his fist on the hatchway as he came up the ramp. He dropped into the seat beside Jones and began pulling up the situation reports and sorting through them for critical intel, deep in his own mission-mode. Winter Soldier turned back toward the console to complete his share of the takeoff protocol.

“I’m online with local law,” Iron Patriot said. “Clearing us space to work and getting the civilians evacuated.”

“Good job,” Cap said as Widow pulled back the stick and put them on the ceiling.

The Winter Soldier allowed himself a cold, bloodless smile beneath his face-plate. Today was a good day to go to war.

***

_Tony_

Tony leaned against the cool glass, breathing carefully in time with the whimsical image JARVIS was projecting on the floor in front of him. Focusing. Not Hulking out.

It would be so much easier to focus if he could really _work_ \-- nothing shut away the rest of the world like a wonderfully knotty project -- but the most he could do in the Hulk Room was play with holograms. It wasn’t as satisfying, as absorbing.

And without Bucky on the other side of the glass to keep him calm-- Tony ruthlessly cut off that line of thinking, pressing Bucky’s shirt against his face and making himself recall the exact order of play of the fourth game of backgammon he and Yinsen had shared.

The door slid open and Tony watched himself walk in; not Tony's own usual if-I-walk-faster-than-everyone-else-I-will-get-my-way-about-this sort of stride, but a slump-shouldered shuffle. “Hey,” Bruce said. “Thought you might want some company.”

“That is really disconcerting,” Tony said, still watching his own body move across the room with a cautious diffidence Tony had never felt in his entire life. “They left you behind, too, huh?”

Bruce rubbed his chin. “Yeah. I accidentally suited up yesterday, but I can’t fly it, so I’d just be dead weight. That stuff is weird, Tony. And pinchy.” He lifted up the side of his shirt, showing off a long crease-bite from underarm to the bottom of his ribs.

“Yeah, Bucky likes to feed me; I need to step up my workout,” Tony said. “Once it’s locked into place it’s not so bad. You could... probably learn to pilot the armor. If you had to.” He didn’t quite look at Bruce, not wanting to ask how the research was going. He’d jotted down some notes for Bruce in his more lucid moments, but every time Tony tried to dig into the research himself, he got so tied up in knots about the possibilities that he just Hulked out again. He pressed Bucky’s shirt to his face again, breathing in the calm.

“I don’t want to have to, Tony. We’re going to fix this. Repairs completed today and everyone’s back in their labs. We need to reproduce that accelerant you made for neuron pathways. That should be ready by Saturday, assuming the mix goes correctly.” Bruce sat down, putting his back to Tony. “I really look like that, huh? I always thought I was taller.”

Tony huffed out a laugh, feeling the creaking ache in his bones that was the very first precursor to the transformation ease. He’d never been so grateful for his science bro. “So how’s life as the sexiest Avenger?”

“Getting more action than normal,” Bruce admitted. “Your boy shoved his tongue down my throat before we realized what was up, and I might be taking a little bit of advantage of the situation to have a little more personal time with Nat.” He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, though. Barnes was very clear about this being your personal body and not mine to… well… you know.”

“Are you kidding? You should absolutely tap that while you have the chance. If it’s not super weird for _her_ , anyway. It kinda has to be, a little, right? Fury did send her to honeypot me. But then, our lives are so fucking weird, I mean, what’s a little bodyswapping amongst friends, right? Keep the lights low, do something sexy with a scarf on her eyes, it’ll be fine.”

Bruce shook his head. “She told me you’d say that. Well, not that, exactly, but… And she may well be the only one of us for whom this is _not_ super weird. She says, and I believe her, that she can see me, moving around inside your body. Wait, that sounds really wrong and kinda gross. But… yeah. Body language. Apparently we’re still using our own, and not each others.”

Tony nodded. “Bucky said that, too. That it was weird to see my movements in your body. But see? There you go! They get back from mopping the floor with Evil Balloony, you need to get it on!”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I’m the one with the issue about it,” Bruce said. “Well, and Barnes, who doesn’t want me to touch Nat with your… ahem. Hands.”

Tony snorted. “Hardly seems fair. He’s had _his_ ahem-hands on Nat, you should get a turn. And it’s my body, if anyone would get to veto that, it should be me. I’ll deal with him. What’s _your_ beef?”

“Jealousy.” Bruce thunked his head against the glass for a moment. “Stupid, I know, right? But I see her, looking at _your_ body the way I’d rather she was looking at _me_ , and it gets all turned around in my head.”

That was even funnier than the height joke. “If Nat wanted my body, she’s had four years and a multitude of opportunities to say something about it. Neither of us is exactly shy about that sort of thing, Brucie-bear. I’m entirely certain that any bedroom eyes she’s making are at the man inside. Furthermore, they’re _exactly_ the same eyes she gives you when you’re in your proper body. Why do you think we started this project in the first place? You should _totally_ take advantage of the opportunity.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment. “You know I’m not going to leave you in there, right, Tony?” he said. “I’m going to fix this; fix us. I won’t take happiness at the cost of yours.”

Tony shuddered; the Hulk was snarling right up behind his eyes, calling Bruce a liar, a cheat, a _thief_... He closed his eyes tight and counted prime numbers backwards from ten thousand, until finally it subsided. “I know,” he finally gasped. “I know.”

Bruce didn’t flinch, he didn’t look down. He met Tony’s gaze calmly, a little sad.

“You’re going to sort us out,” Tony said, a promise. “And then we’re going to finish the project.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s the plan, Tony.” He paused. “Nat’s going to talk to your boy. She feels Barnes might listen to her more than he’s going to listen to me. But I won’t go ahead without his okay, too. He has a vested interest, and I don’t want to… get between you, or make things harder for him. God knows, he’s been through enough. But Tony. Thank you. I mean it.”

Tony laughed weakly, still feeling that ache, deep in his bones. “That body has had a lot of sex that I don’t remember,” he said wryly. “At least this time I know it’ll be in a good cause.” He shivered again. “Hey, Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“I”m... sorry. If I’ve made it. Harder.” Tony had waved a lot of red flags in front of Bruce in the years they’d been working together, and if he’d had any idea, any _inkling_ , what it felt like, how damned _hard_ it was to keep a leash on the Hulk...

Bruce shook his head, rapid, denial. “No, Tony, no, you never did. _Ever_. You’ve done nothing but make this easier, better. You… being here, being with the Avengers? With people who aren’t terrified of me, with people who care. You treat me like I’m a hundred percent _normal_ , and you’ve got no idea how much I missed it. I can’t imagine being anywhere else, anymore. I can work. I don’t have to stay on the move. I have a home. And you gave it to me. If anything, I should thank you for it.”

Tony felt a smile stretch his lips, warmth soothing his aching muscles. “How could I pass up an opportunity to work with _the_ Dr. Banner?” He laid back on the floor and looked up at the ceiling, letting exhaustion pin his limbs to the floor.

“Admit it, you were more super _bored_ than a superhero until I came along,” Bruce said.

“But never _boring_ ,” Tony shot back. He calculated flight paths and wind resistance and approach arcs. The others would be on approach and ready to engage AIM soon. “I think we need a movie.”

“Good idea,” Bruce said. “Sam was recommending this ridiculous piece of anime the other day, total fluff and giggles. Sounds very… comforting, right about now.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, relief and gratitude relaxing him even further. “Though I want you to know that I’m only indulging Sam’s anime obsession because he’s not here to mock me for it.”

“My lips are sealed,” Bruce said. “Well, yours are… um… yeah, weird. Whatever. Moving on. Popcorn. JARVIS, can you queue up _Dragon-Half_ and I’ll be back in five minutes?”

***

_Natasha_

Natasha toweled her hair, moving away from Steve and Johnny Storm, who were arguing vociferously about whose fault it was that M.O.D.O.K. had gotten away, which was just giving her a headache. Johnny bore such a striking resemblance to Steve that it was almost like watching Steve arguing with a slightly younger, more reckless, reflection.

The crazy brainiac hadn’t gotten what he wanted -- and that was Johnny’s doing, because he slagged the supercomputer rather than let AIM take control of it, which was both good and bad. The civilian contractor who’d engineered the damn thing was screaming bloody murder over the heap of charred circuitry -- but M.O.D.O.K. had thrown at least two hundred shock troops in the Avengers’ way to cover his exit.

Those guys had been telepathically controlled; when M.O.D.O.K. had gotten out of range, they’d reverted to their original personalities. Apparently they were high school bus drivers, nabbed from a local borough. The Winter Soldier had just about had a complete meltdown as soon as he figured out what had happened. Keeping him from chasing M.O.D.O.K. down by himself had been… exhausting. In the end, Clint had been forced to shoot him in the leg, and no one was looking forward to that fallout.

“Hey, it was a sticky-arrow,” Clint muttered, heading into the shower. “Not my fault he got in the way of the delivery system.”

“You missed, man,” Sam said. “With an area-of-effect weapon. Just eat that one, Clint.”

“Aw…” Clint smacked Sam in the arm.

Natasha shook her head and headed to the gym. Of course Yasha would be there, he was always there, if he couldn’t be with Tony, and there was no way he was going to show up in the Hulk room with an arrow hole through his calf. It was a minor injury, for a super soldier, but with Tony the way he was... That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

For a change, Yasha wasn’t actually hitting anything when she arrived; instead he was leaning against the wall, hair pulled back away from his face in a messy bun, and giving the wall in front of him his best thousand-yard stare. His wounded leg was bent up, foot pressed to the wall behind him. The white bandage wasn’t seeping through just yet, and that was a good sign.

“Tash,” he greeted her. “I don’t suppose anyone else in this building does anything as prosaic as smoke? I’m out, but I ain't fit for bein’ in public right now. Steve keeps trying to get me to quit, but you'd think after closing on seventy five years, he'd give that shit up.”

“I can probably get you one,” Natasha said. “Meet me on the roof in five. Besides, it’ll give your leg a chance to heal; no one’s looking forward to that conversation with Tony. ‘Oh, yeah, Yasha’s just taking an extra long shower, he is in _no way whatsoever_ waiting for his wounds to close before he comes to see you.’”

Yasha snorted. “Call me out, go ahead.” But he pushed off from the wall and headed toward the elevator bank.

A quick chat and some peeking down her cleavage with one of the security guards scored her three smokes and a spare lighter, which really should be all Yasha needed for one chat; it wasn’t like a smoke was going to hurt him, these days, but it was still gross. With the number of super-enhanced noses in the building, she wouldn’t normally encourage or enable it, but she needed as much leverage as she could get for this conversation.

Yasha lit the first one and sat on the edge of the building, his feet dangling over the sides, kicking at the concrete. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, finally, as she didn’t talk, just watched him.

“Do you love me?” She put every erg of her best kitten behavior into it, wide eyes, the soft mouth, the head tilt.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Yasha rolled his eyes, taking a long drag on his cigarette and letting the smoke slide out of the corner of his mouth. “‘Course I do.”

She sat next to him on the ledge, the long drop off the side making her stomach tighten and her head swim just a bit before she focused on Yasha again. “So, why won’t you help me? Help us.”

Yasha stared at her for a long moment, the cigarette dangling from his lower lip. “Oh, no, Tash, not… please don’t ask this of me.”

“Bruce already spoke to Tony about it,” she said, soft and easy. “It’s Tony’s body, you know we wouldn’t do anything without his consent.”

“Of course _Tony’s_ okay with it,” Yasha snapped. “The man has no sense of personal boundaries. But don’t we owe it to him, as his friends, to treat him better than he treats himself? He’s not an object, Tash.”

Trust Yasha to come at the problem sideways and get under her armor. It was the thing that had first drawn her to him -- that he had always seen her, known her, as a _person_ , and not an asset. Even when he wasn’t entirely a person, himself. She watched, carefully marshalling her words, as he stubbed his smoke against his left palm and pocketed the butt. “No, he’s not, and we would never treat him like he was,” she said. “It’s a gift from him, Yasha, please understand that. We love him, he loves us. He _wants_ to do this for us. The whole mess started because… because Bruce…” She hitched in a breath and found herself scarily near real tears, which she was always loathe to share with anyone. “Maybe they’ll make a breakthrough, but this may be the only chance we have. We _know_ that we can have this; everything else is still a theory. Please, Yasha, please.”

Yasha took a deep breath, expelled it violently. “You’re killin’ me here, smalls,” he said. “Gimme that other smoke.”

Natasha lit the cigarette for him, took a drag, and handed it over. He hesitated, then put his lips over where hers had been.

“All right,” he said, finally. “All right. Do what you have to. But…” he held up one shiny, metal finger. “Don’t _ever_ tell me about it. And don’t mark him up, okay? I want him back in the same condition he’s in now. No bruises. No fingernail marks.”

Natasha smiled. “No, I won’t. Thank you.” She got up, brushed dirt off her thighs. “I remember how you feel about marks. You know,” she said, thoughtfully circling the star on his left arm, “you could probably get JARVIS to help you change this up some. If you wanted his mark on you, for longer than twenty minutes.”

And she left him there, cigarette still in his mouth, staring after her as if that idea had not yet occurred to him. There. A gift for a gift. _You’re welcome, Yasha._

 


	5. Freaky Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains m/f graphic sexual content. If that’s not your thing, stop reading when it switches to Bruce’s POV.

_Tony_

Tony was already scrambling to his feet as Bucky smashed the release button on the outside of the Hulk’s enclosure. Bucky’s face was pale, determined, and a little scared, like he’d seen a ghost. His white tank was soaked with sweat, practically see-through, and he smelled like cigarettes. He wore black compression shorts and his calf was covered in a thick, white bandage, and those were all the details Tony had time to absorb before Bucky surged up into his arms, oblivious to danger, and crushed his mouth down on Tony’s.

“What are you doing?” Tony gasped, pulling away, backing up, and Bucky chased right after him, barely letting him think with rough, invading kisses. Bucky’s hands were _everywhere_. “Are you _insane_?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, pulling Tony’s jaw down with one thumb, “but you knew that already.”

“Bucky,” Tony gasped, tilting his head back as Bucky kissed his chin, his throat. “You gotta go, honey, you can’t stay in here.”

“One more, just…” Bucky moaned, inhaling, stealing the air from Tony’s chest and ended with a nip at his lower lip. He dropped his hands awkwardly, panting for breath, and then slowly backed out, not triggering any of those violent outbursts.

The door slid closed, pneumatics hissing, and Bucky fell to his knees, letting his head rest against the glass.

Tony took a few desperate, heaving breaths, trying to quell the fears that swarmed him, echoing down deep into his bones. The monster suppressed for the moment, he dropped to the floor as well, putting his hand against the glass, the closest he could get to brushing Bucky’s hair back. “Hey, hey, soldier,” Tony said, “what was that all about? Not, mind, that I’m objecting to being kissed stupid or anything but I’m _not safe_ right now, you know that.”

“‘M a bad man, Tony,” Bucky gasped out. “Selfish and possessive and _jealous_ and a fucking hypocrite, an’ I just needed...”

 _Oh_.

“You talked with Nat,” Tony surmised.

“She made the damn kitten-face at me,” Bucky whispered, still kneeling like he was in church, confessing his sins.

“Well, there’s no surviving that,” Tony said reasonably.

Bucky shook his head, the rest of the bun falling out and he grumbled, raking his fingers through the mess. “She makes me want to cut my heart out and give it to her on a plate.”

“I know,” Tony said. “It’s her superpower. So I guess you said yes, then.”

Bucky chewed his lip, shifting until he was half laying on the ground, leaning against the glass. “You’re… givin’ ‘em a gift. What kinda heel would I be, to… I don’t hafta like it.”

“No, you don’t,” Tony said softly. “But listen to me, okay? It’s _not me_. Okay, yeah, she’s going to see that mole on my thigh that you like so much, but any yahoo with internet can see that. I’ve never exactly been shy and retiring. But she’s not going to know my reactions. She’s not going to feel me shiver or hear me moan or know about that thing I do with my tongue.” He grinned at the hint of blush that crawled over Bucky’s neck. “And I’m not going to find out anything about her I didn’t already know, either. It’s _not me_.”

“Nnnnhgh. Don’t… Christ, it’s been a long week already,” Bucky said, squirming just a little. “I know, I know… it’s not you. You’re right here, with me. But…” He looked up, met Tony’s eyes, a little stricken. “But _I know_. I know how she moves and I know how you move and Tony, it don’t take much for me, I can… ug. Not get the image out of my head and it’s killin’ me.”

Tony sighed a little. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buckaboo. I’m yours, you know that.”

“Jealousy sucks,” Bucky said, fervently. “It’s a terrible thing to feel and it doesn’t do a lick of good for anyone. It just feels _bad_.”

“Well, yeah,” Tony said. “On the other hand, it’s kinda hot when you get all possessive.”

“Damn straight it is,” Bucky said. “You’re _mine_. The only one who can change that is you.” He shuddered all over and sniffed. “Shit.”

The air filters brought the smell to him, faint and growing stronger. Blood.

“Hang on, hang on,” Bucky said, shifting again and pulling his leg up, the bandage soaking through slowly, red and dripping. “Crap. I thought it stopped. Sorry.”

Tony gritted his teeth against the shiver of the Hulk’s interest. “How-- No, don’t tell me, it’ll just make it worse.”

Bucky tore strips out of one of the blankets. “There’s no point in stitching it up, it’ll just close in a few hours. I… sorry, sorry. Stay with me, baby, _please_.”

“Trying,” Tony growled. “I’m just. You’re _hurt_ and I--” He closed his eyes against the blood, reminded himself it wasn’t bad, wouldn’t be be too bad even on himself and on Bucky it was barely worse than a scratch. “ _God_ , I hope Bruce can figure this out soon. I am not cut out for this zen shit.”

Bucky tied the blanket strips around his leg, tight, cutting off the flow of blood to a mere trickle. “It’s through and through, Tony. It’s fine, just stings a bit.”

Tony shuddered again. “Yeah, okay. Are-- Everyone else is okay?”

“Yeah… Jessica wrecked herself again, but she also got a couple of good hits on M.O.D.O.K. before he did a runner. An’ Rhodes and Johnny did this two-way air-cover that worked brilliant, right up until Johnny torched the thing that M.O.D.O.K. was after in the first place. Which reminds me…” He pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket. “I got specs for you, if you want to take a hack at rebuilding the damn thing. The contractor’s out of his mind with a rage-on for us, right now.”

“Contractors,” Tony said with a disdain that utterly disregarded SI’s own contracts with the government. “Always bitching about something. Sure, give it to JARVIS and he’ll throw everything in here for me. Uh, secure terminal for the initial upload, because if M.O.D.O.K. wanted it then I’m not trusting it not to be crawling with viruses and malware.”

“You got it, dollface,” Bucky said. He pried himself off the floor with easy grace and plugged it into JARVIS’s offered terminal. “You peek at that for a bit, do something with that big, beautiful brain of yours. I’mma go give Cap my mission report before he comes down here to tear me a new one for… yeah. Report. I’ll be back with dinner, okay? Love you, babe.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “Love you, too, and don’t think I’m not going to find out what that’s all about!” he called just before the door shut. And... well, yeah, he was probably going to have to Hulk Out again for a while, now, before he looked at that data.

***

_Bruce_

The bathroom door opened and some of the muggy steam swept out with the brief flash of light from the hall. Bruce had taken to showering with the lights off because hygiene for a body that wasn’t his was getting weird. The first day had just been traumatic, but after that, he’d started noticing things about Tony that he just didn’t want to know, like how much fiber Tony was (not) getting, and the fact that Barnes apparently had a thing about teeth, because Tony’s thighs were _covered_ in half-healed red and purple bite-shaped bruises.

“Hey, big guy,” Nat said. “Mind if I join you?”

Bruce leaned his head against the tiles, letting the water sluice down his back. She’d talked to Barnes, and this was suddenly real in a way that it hadn’t been before, not even when he was talking with Tony and she… “Yeah, come on in. The water’s fine.”

Nat stepped into the shower with him and he was almost disappointed, because he’d wanted to take his time and undress her, like unwrapping a present, revealing a little bit of her at a time, touch and taste and now she was right next to him, completely naked and stretching under the hot water and…

Okay, disappointment done now.

She was sleek and subtle under his hands, each kiss and caress precious. A gift and a joy in each soft sigh and Bruce had no intention of wasting or forgetting a single moment. He took his time, stroking his fingers down her back, getting her to tilt her head for him and worked her long red hair with shampoo and conditioner, reveling in the feel of her beneath his fingertips, the aching breaths and strain of a body that didn’t belong to him, wanting, so desperate and hot.

Nat leaned back against him as he rinsed her hair, the wet length of her against his skin, and she groaned, feeling him pressed into her, hard and aching, and that sound almost undid him completely. He turned her gently, covered her mouth with his and tried not to weep with gratitude as she responded to his kiss, her hands coming up around the back of his neck, thumbs under his ears where he was so sensitive and there was no dangerous voice in his head, no beast behind his heartbeat, and this could happen, it _would_ happen, and he didn’t know if he could wait anymore.

He turned the water off with a quick twist and they stumbled out of the stall, the plush, absorbent mats muffling the sounds of their footsteps. She’d laid out towels for them and wrapped one around her body, tucking the end in just under her arm, using another to squeeze water from her hair, the droplets turning into tiny rivers down her arms and back.  

The faint light in the hall was flickering, candle-light. Bruce stopped in his tracks, just before the bed, where she’d set up a double-dozen candles of all shapes and sizes. Rose petals -- dried ones and he suddenly remembered that day she had danced with Barnes -- were scattered over the bed.

“I didn’t know you were a closet romantic,” he said, teasing her and she curled up her mouth in a welcoming smile.

“Well, if we’re going to do a thing, there’s no sense in not doing it right,” she said, bringing his head down for a kiss, not very far, because he was shorter than normal, but it just made it easier to cover her mouth and he wasn’t going to spit at this gift by denying it.

“I don’t think you could do it wrong if you were trying,” he said, touching her cheek. She shivered under his fingers, taking a step back and leading him toward the bed. Bruce couldn’t think of a thing he wanted to do more, and his hand stole around the edge of her towel as she stepped away, baring her to his sight.

He’d seen some of her, before, of course, but he’d never had the time or wit to appreciate the full deal, so he took a long moment to appreciate everything about her, from her full, lush mouth to the sweet curve of her shoulders, the heft of her breasts, the dip at her waist, the scars that dotted her skin that make her perfectly imperfect.

She smiled to see his eyes on her, and feeling just a little more like Tony Stark than he was comfortable with, Bruce held up a finger and indicated that she should turn around for him. Delicate, on her tiny feet, she spun light, graceful, revolving on the spot, the drying ends of her hair fluttering under the self-created breeze.

“So lovely,” Bruce said, closing the distance between them and kissing her again, inhaling the scent of wet, damp female, burying his face in her wet hair, kissing her hair, her ear, finding the shivery spots on her neck that made her cling to him.

Nat held his hands in hers, pulling him down onto the bed and Bruce propped himself on an elbow to stare down into her face, the candlelight lending a luminous glow to her perfect, porcelain skin, setting her hair off with deep gold highlights. She kissed him, kissed him again, then flipped him, easily, so she was on top, her slender body suspended above him.

Her eyes gleaming in the light, Nat slithered backward, dropping kisses along his chest, licking one nipple until it perked. She continued downward, touching, tasting, testing and he inhaled, heart racing, as he realized what she was planning. For just an instant, he half-sat, thinking to stop her because that was not, in no way was that _his cock_ , but then her mouth came down over him and he couldn’t have stopped her if he wanted to, speared as he was with sensation, pinned and wriggling and totally at her mercy. His hands came down on the bed, crushed the comforter in his fists as she tongued over his skin, teasing and feather-light.

Bruce couldn’t look away, the sinuous curve of her back as she worked him. The glitter of her hair, brushing against his thighs as she moved over him and driving him wild. She slid a hand in between her chin and his groin, stroked him so she could control his depth. She went down, twisting her hand as she went, a combination of sensations that almost brought him off the bed in shock, and when she came back up, she slid her thumb into her mouth, using it to stroke briskly at the ridge around his cockhead.

 _Expert_ , his brain screamed at him. And also _unfair_ , and followed up by _oh, god._ “Wait, wait,” he gasped. “Not… not yet.”

Nat tilted her head, looking up at him with just the tip of her tongue teasing at him. “No?”

Bruce felt heat creeping up his neck. “I’m on the wrong side of forty, Nat, and Tony’s no younger than I am. If I finish now, I’m done for the night.”

“I’d still find uses for you,” Nat said, dropping her mouth for one long, last taste and Bruce didn’t want her to stop but at the same time… “Besides, I came prepared.”

Bruce snorted, raised an eyebrow. “Did you, now?”

Nat jerked a thumb at the bedside table. “Yes, I did. For any and all considerations.”

Okay, now he was curious. Bruce kissed her, then lost track of his train of thought and kissed her a few more times, before rolling over to see what she was talking about. Nat snuggled up behind him. Her nipples were hard and pressed against his back, which gave him the shivers.

The bedside table contained a wicker, linen-lined basket, and inside the basket was… “Good lord, woman, you are a sexual boy scout.” Cialis and Viagra, two doses of each, their tiny pill bottles nestled alongside an assortment of lube: flavored, heated, cooling, and plain. “I didn’t know what you’d like,” Nat whispered, the heat of her breath in his ear made his arms break out in goosebumps. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“And it will be,” Bruce promised. “No condoms?”

Nat shook her head. “Not necessary,” she said. “I’ve got a clean bill of health and both of us have had our various bits clipped.”

“Good,” Bruce said, profoundly moved. There were levels of trust and faith and intimacy that protection, while usually a good plan, sometimes got in the way of. If he only got this one chance, he wanted every bit of her that he could get. He rolled over to her, worries forgotten, and stroked her skin, touching her, loving her.

She was responsive, eager, sighing soft at each point, arching her back with need as he brushed over her nipple, then lowered his mouth to suck, curling his tongue around her tightening bud, fingers lifting the weight of her softness, then down again to the curve of her belly, flat, taut, graceful. He kissed each delicate scar, then dipped his tongue into her navel, which caused her to squeak with surprise.

Bruce was a man of science; he conducted experiments, studied results, tested again. He managed uneasily in a world of people and emotions, but he could test his theories, see what made her moan and squeal, repeat those movements that had the best results. He could bring her right to the fever edge and hold her there.

There weren’t words, he realized. There weren’t words good enough for what he wanted to say to her. Anything he might say would just be a pale imitation of what was in his heart. But he could show her, he could test her and discover the answers to everything.

Her face was flushed in the golden light, ready, wanting. She panted for breath, her gasps echoing in every twitch of her body. He wanted to take both her hands and hold them, make her his captive and keep her with him, in this moment, in this precise instant, forever. And he wanted to kiss her, tenderly, everywhere. “You’re so… you’re so…” but he couldn’t finish the thought, he could only stare at her in wonder. He’d been made for this, for this moment. With her.

He reached down, found her center and brushed carefully over that tight knot, swallowing her eager gasp with a kiss. He stroked her, one finger, until she was writhing under him, her thighs parted, fingers clenching and unclenching on his shoulders until she clamped down with sudden force, keening in the back of her throat, her eyes rolled all the way back, throat up and exposed, chest arching off the bed as she came.

“Beautiful, my beautiful Natasha,” he crooned, then made his way down her body, further, until he could taste her. He noted, while he was down there, that she was a natural red-head, blushing a bit at the thought, and reminding himself that deep inside, all men were about twelve years old, but it made him proud and possessive and eager, to see that nest of tiny red curls around her mons, to part them with his fingers and to dive into her tender flesh there, tasting her, licking each fold and flower.

She wrapped her legs around his head, powerful thighs that kept him in place, wordlessly encouraging him, preventing him from leaving so that he _would not stop_ what he was doing. As if he could wish to. He slid a finger into her sheath; it was hot, wet, _tight_ and he groaned into her as she clamped down on him. Her hands were in his hair, guiding, directing, pulling.

She lunged up again, gasping, stiffening. Her legs tightened, almost to the point of concern, and then she went limp against the bed, toes perfectly pointed, fingers splayed, the fine muscles in her thighs twitching.

Tenderly, he kissed the inside of each thigh, then pulled himself up, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She cracked her eyelids to peer at him from under thick lashes. “Mmmm, hello,” she said.

“Hello, yourself,” he said, cradling himself in the wedge of her legs, feeling her heat against his skin, wanting, aching with it, but holding himself back, waiting for her to catch her breath and feeling very smug and satisfied about it as she trembled.

Her shivers nudged at him, slipping against her where she was hot and wet, a mix of her and him and… he was so _ready_ and “Natasha?”

She nodded. “<Love you,>” she said, and he was suddenly and deeply thrilled to realize she’d said it in Bengali, the language he’d been learning when they first met. He took a deep breath, then pressed into her, her legs coming up around his hips to guide him home.

Natasha was deep and slick and so, so hot that he almost lost himself right there, reached out with his mind and grabbed the first complex thought he could hold; he pondered Baryon asymmetry until the urge subsided a little.

He came close again, and she rolled them over with skill and grace, thrusting her proud breasts forward as she came to rest straddled across his thighs. She raised herself, her dancer’s body taut and lovely, then moved, her hips rolling with delicious abandon and he cried out. The angle changed, he got a hand between their bodies, found her clit and worked it as well as he could with his thumb, matching his movements to hers until she was whimpering and slowing, her legs shaking. She lost her balance, tumbled onto his chest and she squeezed around his cock, shuddering with lush satisfaction and he shouted, clasping his arms around her back and holding him to her as he thrust up, one last time, and lost himself to the frenzy, surrounded by pleasure, delighted by the crescendo of passion.

Bruce tucked one hand behind his head, the other resting over her hips, slick with sweat and cooling rapidly as the heat faded from them. He breathed in their mixed scents, hers and his and what they’d done together and found his place in the center of her universe.


	6. Senseless Saturday

_Bruce_

He woke with a jolt and a gasp.

“Mmmruce?” Natasha mumbled, head half-raising from the cradle of her arms. “Wha’s it?”

Naked and languorous, the rumpled sheet sliding off her shoulders to reveal the creamy flesh of her back, the teasing curve of her breast where it was pressed against the mattress, she was a dream come true. A spark of lust curled low in his belly at the sight, but he kissed her shoulder and sat up, throwing back the blankets. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “I just figured something out.”

Natasha stretched and sat up herself, reaching for his bathrobe. “I’ll come with you.” Her tone brooked no argument, and Bruce wanted to get the thought down before he forgot it again, so he simply nodded, pulling on the loose pants that he kept ready-to-hand and one of his numerous cheap t-shirts.

In the lab, he woke the displays with a wave and began swiping through the blueprints until he’d found the one he needed. “JARVIS, give me the exploded view, would you?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

“What are we looking at?” Natasha asked, setting a steaming mug by his hand even as she sipped from her own.

“The neural path analyzer,” Bruce said. He sipped from the mug absently -- black coffee, strong and sweet, the way he’d learned to like it in Turkey -- and watched the diagram rotate before him. “There. JARVIS, magnify the connection diagram for the feedback response unit, please, and throw up the relevant code on screen four.”

“You figured out what went wrong?” Natasha asked.

Bruce nodded, eyes tracing the connections, noting the power source and the superfine wires. His eyes flicked toward screen four. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think so. JARVIS, did you manage to collect any of the data we were trying to get before the, uh, accident happened?”

“Very little, I’m afraid, Dr. Banner. The surge of the event seems to have overwhelmed all but the first few data points.”

“That’ll do,” Bruce said. “Give ‘em to me on screen two.” The screen flickered with two rows of numbers, and Bruce grinned. “Yes!”

Natasha was at his back, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Tell me what I’m looking at,” she said.

Bruce turned to slip his arms around her. “The analyzer is a pretty delicate bit of equipment, and super-sensitive to even the tiniest electrical impulse, because that’s what neurons do -- transmit electrical impulses. Tiny ones. But we didn’t account for -- we didn’t even _know_ to account for -- the other guy.”

“He fried the analyzer?” Natasha guessed.

“Sort of. His impulses are, uh, stronger than a normal human’s.” Bruce waved at the numbers on screen two. “A _lot_ stronger. Which we probably should have known, or at least guessed. But we didn’t, and we didn’t include anything in the code to restrict the signal as it was passing through the analyzer.” He waved at the code on screen four. “So it flipped out and shunted all the extra energy down the only path it could find -- which was straight into Tony’s head. And then when the impulses from Tony’s readings couldn’t pass through like they were supposed to, because the Hulk was using up all that real estate, they diverted back into _my_ head.”

“Huh.” Natasha was quiet for a moment, digesting. She eyed the numbers, then reached out a hand to scroll through the code a little, looking for something. “So now we know how you got swapped, can you reverse it?”

“Yeah, it should be a piece of cake,” Bruce said. He grinned at her. “We could be fixed back up by tonight!”

“That’s great,” Natasha said. She smiled at him, warm as always, but just a hint sad. “I’ve missed you. But I have to say, this was... nice. Not having to be so careful.”

The exultation of discovery dampened abruptly. “Yeah,” he agreed. It was tempting, suddenly -- _god_ , it was tempting -- to pretend he hadn’t put the pieces together yet, to invent some reason why the switch back couldn’t happen just yet, to stall, only a few more days. “I’ll... I wish... I could...”

She stretched up on her toes and kissed him, drowning his words. “I’m glad we got to do this,” she said. “But I’m ready to have you back.”

Bruce smiled crookedly. “Don’t tell me Tony’s body doesn’t do anything for you,” he teased.

“I miss your pelt,” Natasha said, impish. She put her hand on his chest, slid her fingertips down over the smooth scars there where the arc reactor used to sit. Whatever chest hair Tony might have once had, the scarring had eliminated it all.

For all its negatives, there would be a certain relief to being back to his own body, Bruce had to admit.

***

_Tony_

Bucky tapped the glass once, twice, and the holographic knight flickered and moved. “Check.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at the board JARVIS was projecting for them. “So when you said you’d only played chess a handful of times before...”

“Totally lying,” Bucky confirmed smugly. “You gonna make a move, or what?”

“Shut up and let me think,” Tony grouched, studying the board. His knights were nowhere useful. There was a pawn that could put Bucky in check, but Bucky would just take it the next turn and then Tony would be in check again, and down a pawn. He could force Bucky’s knight to retreat with his queen, but that left his bishop vulnerable to Bucky’s rook...

The door opened behind Bucky, admitting Bruce and Natasha. “Hey, guys,” Bruce said. He glanced nervously at Bucky, but Bucky just waved in greeting.

Natasha cocked her head and studied the chessboard. “You’re losing,” she told Tony.

“Because Bucky is a lying liar who lies,” Tony told her. “I was trying to go easy on him, and suddenly he’s turning into Bobby Fischer on me.”

“Garry Kasparov,” Natasha corrected with a smirk. She reached out to fist-bump Bucky without even looking.

“How’s the other guy feeling today?” Bruce asked before Tony could argue.

A frisson of cold slipped down Tony’s spine. “Well, he _was_ pretty quiet, until you said that,” Tony said. “What’s up?”

“If you think you can keep him locked down for half an hour, we’re ready to reverse the swap.”

Tony was on his feet in an instant. “I’m good, let’s go.”

“You don’t want to finish the game first?” Natasha asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, Romanov.”

“She’s hilarious,” Bucky said. “But I’m all in favor of getting my boyfriend back as soon as fucking possible.” Bruce was already at the airlock door, keying in the release code.

“I’m not sure how much fucking there’s going to be,” Tony threatened idly, waiting for the door to cycle open, “if you keep taking her side against me, here.”

“Would _you_ bet on you, against her?” Bucky asked.

“...No.”

“Wise answer.”

Finally, the door opened, and Tony lurched through, only to stand impatiently at the exterior door, waiting for _its_ cycle. “C’mon c’mon c’mon,” he muttered. “It’s so _boring_ in there. You know, when I’m not trying to literally rip the walls apart with my big green fingernails.”

“Next time I’ll leave you a magazine or something,” Bruce promised.

Then the door was open and Bucky was pushing past Bruce to pull Tony into his arms. Tony clung with more than a hint of desperation. “Hey, you. ‘Bout ready to be done with this?”

“God, so ready,” Bucky groaned.

“Good. Me, too.” Tony gave him another moment. “Babe, you gotta let go of me so we can go to the lab.”

“I could carry you,” Bucky said, muscles bunching as if he fully intended to carry through on the suggestion.

“No,” Tony said firmly, because Bruce was looking far too amused -- with Tony’s own signature smirk, no less. “But once we’re done, you can carry me back to our room. Deal?”

Bucky huffed out a sigh. “Fine. Deal.” He squeezed a little tighter, then let go.

“But stay close,” Tony said, suddenly feeling the stirring under his skin. “Helps me stay calm.”

Bucky looked bashfully delighted at that, the big sap, and twined their fingers together.

“Thor’s going to meet us in the lab,” Bruce said. “Just in case.”

“Well, let’s go do it, then.”

They followed Bruce down to the lab like a line of ducklings, wary and excited in equal measure. Bucky kept tight hold of Tony’s hand, his thumb rubbing soothingly against Tony’s.

Thor met them at the doorway. “Good greetings to you, fair friends. I anticipate that this day’s work will be advantageous for all.”

Tony clapped Thor on the arm -- gently, Thor’s arms were even more brick-like than Steve’s -- and followed Bruce’s wave toward the experimental setup station. “What’s the plan, then?”

Bruce’s diffident, half-shy little smile still looked weird on Tony’s face. “Pretty much just the same thing we did to get in this mess in the first place. I’ve re-created the components you smashed up, and JARVIS has helped me run some projections, and we should flip right back.”

“No muss, no fuss, eh?” Tony glanced at Bucky and Natasha, talking quietly with Thor (not so much with the quiet) on the far side of the room, in what they’d drawn off as the safe zone, and then drew Bruce closer. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked softly. “I mean. The Hulk Room isn’t the most comfortable place in the building -- two stars on Yelp, and that’s only because the room service is great -- but, y’know. If anyone deserves a little R&R, buddy, it’s you.”

Bruce squeezed Tony’s arm. “Thanks,” he said, just as quiet. “That means a lot. But I’m ready.”

Oh, shit, _feelings_. Time to shut that shit down. “You just don’t want Nat to get used to all that sexy,” Tony said, waving at his own body.

Bruce snorted. “Yes. That’s exactly it. You’ve found me out.” His tone was so dry it could qualify as its own desert.

Tony grinned and dropped loosely into the chair across the table from Bruce, and began sticking the electrodes to his face. “Ug, the glue on these is terrible,” he complained.

Bruce shrugged and came around the table to help position the ones that attached on the back of Tony’s neck, then turned around so Tony could do the same for him. “It washes off. Don’t be such a baby.” Bruce sat in his own chair. “You ready, JARVIS?”

“On your mark, Dr. Banner.”

“Okay.” Bruce didn’t give the signal right away, though; just looked across the room at Natasha. Tony followed Bruce’s gaze, then let his own drift to Bucky. Bucky looked nervous as hell, holding Natasha’s hand for support (or was it the other way around?), but he managed a little bit of a smile for Tony, and a quick thumb’s-up with his free hand.

Thor stepped toward Tony’s side of the safe zone and unlimbered Mjölnir in his grip. “I stand ready,” he said solemnly, “if my presence is needed.”

“Thanks, Thunder Cat,” Tony said, at the same time that Bruce said “Now, JARVIS.”

There was a tingle across Tony’s scalp, a faint buzzing sensation. Nothing happened. Tony glanced at Bruce, still across the table in Tony’s body. Why wasn’t it working?

Shit, what if he was _stuck_ , what if he was never going to be free of this? An ache built in his bones, and then--

\--shit, he didn’t remember it hurting this much last time--

\--he opened his eyes and nearly threw up from the sudden sense of vertigo and disorientation as the whole room shifted just a couple of feet to the--

No, wait. The room hadn’t moved, _he_ had. He looked down, touched his hand to his chest, then his face. _His_ chest. _His_ face. Oh, thank god. “Oh, thank god. Brucie, are you--”

Bruce was not okay, but he hadn’t Hulked out quite yet. He was bent over, though, eyes squeezed shut and skin lightly shading toward green, like a blushing Vulcan. His fists were clenched tightly, forearms bulging with effort as if he could use the Hulk’s strength to hold the Hulk back. Across the room, Thor took a cautious step forward.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” Tony said. “We’re back, it worked, we’re good.”

Bruce grunted at him, which Tony took as a good sign -- it meant Bruce was still capable of responding to external stimuli. “Couple of deep breaths, okay?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bruce growled, not looking at him. His voice was cracked and deep.

Tony shut up. He was far too close to Bruce and not nearly close enough to the armor to poke when Bruce was already this close to the edge.

Footsteps alerted him an instant before Natasha appeared, crouching in front of Bruce. “Hey, big guy,” she said. Bruce didn’t look up at her, but his shoulders sagged, just a little, tension bleeding out. Natasha blew out a breath of relief. “Sun’s gettin’ real low.”

Tony missed the rest of the lullabye because he’d been tackled by a super-soldier. The chair tipped back and the electrodes popped free -- some from Tony’s skin and some from the machine -- and Bucky’s hand cupped the back of Tony’s head just before they hit the floor.

“Ow,” Tony said anyway, just on general principles.

“Tony,” Bucky said, and his voice was nowhere near steady or calm. “God, Tony, baby, you’re _back_.”

“I’ve been here all along, you know.” Tony said, though his own arms were wrapping tightly around Bucky. “I’m beginning to think you lied about loving me for my mind, becau _mmmff_.” He gave up on talking because kissing was a thing that was happening now, and kissing Bucky was definitely better than talking.

Bucky devoured Tony’s mouth like a starving man devoured a feast: reverently and ravenously, all at once. Tony could barely even kiss back; mostly, he just hung on, one arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulder and the other reaching up to wrap his fist into Bucky’s hair.

Somewhere in there, Bucky managed to disentangle them from the fallen chair, sitting back on his heels and pulling Tony onto his lap. Dimly, Tony was aware of Thor bidding them farewell and... something something celebration something fruitfulness, Tony couldn’t be bothered to focus. Bucky just stared at him for the longest time.

Finally, Bucky tucked his face into Tony’s neck and just clung tightly.

Tony stroked his fingers through Bucky’s hair, petting and soothing -- god, he’d missed being able to do that -- and looked over Bucky’s head at Bruce.

Bruce didn’t look green anymore. He was peeling the electrodes off his own skin with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around Natasha’s shoulders. As if sensing Tony’s eyes on him, he looked up, and gave Tony a nod and a small, wistful sort of smile.

“No regrets, big guy?” Tony asked.

“So very many regrets,” Bruce corrected. “But this isn’t one of them.”

 

 


	7. Survivable Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely Bucky/Tony smut; skip it if you’re not into that sort of thing...

_Tony_

“What the hell-- put me down!”

“Mm, no,” Bucky said, hiking Tony a little further up against his body. “You _said_ I could carry you back to our room.” He grinned. “You rather I carry you bridal style, princess?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tony sighed and locked his ankles behind Bucky’s back.

“Workin’ on it, darlin’,” Bucky purred. He nuzzled at Tony’s neck, then drew back with a grimace. “You smell like her.”

“Guess we’re starting in the shower then,” Tony said readily. Bucky’s sense of smell was a lot more sensitive than Tony’s; Tony had eventually stopped arguing with Bucky’s insistence on multiple daily showers.

“And I’m burning these clothes, so I hope you ain’t attached or nothin’,” Bucky said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“You realize we could just wash them a few times, right? I mean, I hate to be the one suggesting frugality at any point, but destroying my clothes is no fun if you’re not going to rip them off me.”

Bucky chuckled, his grip loosening for just a moment, “Nah, there’s too many people in the building right now to carry you buck-assed back to our room. I’m _done_ sharing you, for the time being.”

“Also, I think they’re actually Bruce’s clothes, now that I look. We could just give them back to him.” Tony tipped his head back a bit. “JARVIS, get the shower going for us, would you? You know how we like it.”

Bucky dropped him lightly to his feet just outside the door. “Strip.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Tony teased, already pulling the tee over his head. He let it drop to the floor and then kicked off the sweatpants. “Commando, Bruce, really?”

Bucky turned him lightly, eyes searching Tony’s shoulders, chest, neck. “Hmm. Good.”

“Everything still there?”

“Don’t joke,” Bucky said. “If it was Clint you’d swapped with, he’d have turned you back in with something dumb tattooed on your back.”

“Probably,” Tony conceded. “On the other hand, if I’d swapped with Clint, I’d probably have left him with a piercing. Humor best suited to twelve-year-olds is the foundation of Clint’s and my friendship.”

“And a shared love for coffee, yeah, I know.” Bucky said. He shoved Bruce’s clothing to one side and opened the door. “There. That’s me behaving and not burning Bruce’s stupid purple pants.”

“I’m very proud of you, honeybritches,” Tony assured him, stepping into the steam. “Feel free to join me in Nakedland any time now.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but stripped out of his clothes easily. His arm went through that particular set of clicks that Tony recognized as closing the gaps for water-proofing and he stepped under the second spray, his skin pinking almost immediately in the heat.

Tony grinned and showily eyed the pseudo-blush, but grabbed the soap instead of stepping closer. “And here’s me being good and washing off Nat’s perfume for you.”

Bucky held out a hand. “I’ll help you wash your back?” he suggested. “And it’s not just her perfume… it’s… _her_. That.”

“Okay, okay, you do whatever you need to feel better,” Tony said, dropping the soap into Bucky’s hand and turning around.

Bucky lathered up his hands, then smoothed them down Tony’s back and arms, across his chest, paying, perhaps, a little too much attention to the sensitive nipples, then down to the small of his back. “Missed you,” Bucky said, nipping at the shell of Tony’s ear.

“Missed you too,” Tony sighed, tipping his head to the side. Jokes aside, and as grateful as he was to Bucky for having kept him company and... sort of in control, he’d desperately wanted to _touch_ , to feel the texture of Bucky’s skin, the ripple of muscle underneath, the heavy pounding of Bucky’s heart. “Missed _this_.”

Bucky stretched to his full height, arching his back, rubbing a little more obscenely against Tony’s wet skin than strictly necessary, his spine popping and crackling like a bowl of cereal when the milk was poured on. “You’re spoilin’ me,” he said, “I ain’t used to sleepin’ on the floor, neither.”

Tony harrumphed. “You decide you need to recondition yourself to that, you’re doing it alone,” he warned. “Self-deprivation really isn’t my thing.”

“That’s not what you said when I was injured, few months back,” Bucky said, grinding up against Tony’s back, his hands dropping onto Tony’s hips. “Went about it your way, this time, and I’m… little eager, here.” He sniffed at Tony’s neck, frowned, and chased the soap down again.

“That was-- we were _both_ injured, that was-- Are you telling me you haven’t? At all? Good god, _why_?”

“You want the truth, or should I make somethin’ up that sounds dirty?”

Tony had to pause and think about that one for a second. Which was hard, with Bucky’s hands still sliding over his skin, teasing at all those sensitive spots Bucky had so methodically discovered. “I think, really, I deserve both versions,” he decided.

Bucky voice dropped into a low growl, “I wanted to save it up for you. I am going to fuck you right into the mattress. Until I have wrung every shiver out of your bones.”

Tony shivered; he loved the way that voice seemed to have an express route from his ears straight to his cock. “Yeah, good plan, I like this plan.”

Gently, slowly, Bucky turned Tony around until they were chest to chest. “Don’t laugh,” he warned. “The real reason? I… didn’t want it to be our new normal. I get scared, sometimes, when I start makin’ compensations for the weird shit that happens in our lives. Like… if I get comfortable with it, Fate might decide this is all I deserve.”

Tony couldn’t laugh; Bucky was too serious and Tony wouldn’t want him to think Tony was laughing _at_ him. But he huffed a sigh and stretched up to nip at the soft spot under Bucky’s ear. “Like when you insisted on sleeping on that awful cot outside my door? I notice that your lack of adjustment to a situation keeps leading to you being very uncomfortable.” He slid a hand between them, wrapped it around Bucky’s length. “Luckily, this one’s pretty easy to fix.”

Bucky groaned, strained up onto his toes for just a moment, his eyes wide and vulnerable and young. “Tony…”

Tony hummed idly, dragging his fingers slowly up. “Tony, yes?”

“Tony, yes,” Bucky agreed, fervently. He pulled them closer, slid his hands into Tony’s hair, cupping his head and tilting his mouth up. Bucky came down on him, mouth open and trembling, devouring him.

Tony surrendered his mouth and firmed his grip on Bucky’s cock, moving faster, building quickly and relentlessly. If Bucky hadn’t even been jerking off in the shower for the last week, he’d need a little pressure release before they got going, anyway. There were definite perks to having a super-soldier for a boyfriend, and the all-but-nonexistent refractory period was just one of them.

Bucky inhaled, sucking all the air right out of Tony’s lungs, then broke apart to shiver, straining, and as Tony’s thumb brushed over the ridge of Bucky’s cock, he groaned, spilling over Tony’s hand. “Mmnnnnnnnnn,” he moaned. “Tony, Tony...I… god…”

He shuddered, staggered a step forward and knocked them both into the tiles, panting for breath, hands splayed over the wall.

“There you go,” Tony said. Since he couldn’t go anywhere anyway, with Bucky’s arms caging him in, he relaxed against the wall and nosed at Bucky’s throat, sucking and kissing. It wouldn’t leave a mark that lasted for more than a few minutes, but Bucky seemed to enjoy it anyway.

It didn’t take very many nips for Bucky to be nudging him harder against the wall, his voice low and dark in Tony’s ear. “Not enough,” he whined. “Damn, Tony, I… can’t get enough of you.”

“Good,” Tony said. He considered the way Bucky was looming over him, crowding and pushing, and-- well, yes, that was an interesting thought. Carefully, holding Bucky’s sides for balance on the slippery floor, Tony slid to his knees. He looked up to catch Bucky’s eyes, gratified to see them darken.

The heavy weight of Bucky’s metal hand came down on Tony’s head, like a priest over a schoolboy’s confession, not guiding or directing. “Babydoll, you… God, you look sweet down there.” A fierce, possessive, feral smile crossed Bucky’s lips as he stared.

_Bingo_. Tony smiled back and licked at the base of Bucky’s cock, careful and slow; the heat and water of the shower was going to reduce the sensation to just pressure, a sustained tease. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s face as much as he could, and curled one hand around Bucky’s knee, and worked his way upward, glacially, testing the limits of Bucky’s patience and control.

The servos in Bucky’s arm whined and he moved his hand immediately, gripping the wall, the special reinforcing Tony had had installed creaked alarmingly before Bucky groaned and unkinked his fingers. “Evil,” he muttered, his eyes drifting closed, hips moving in easy, gentle thrusts, sliding in and out of Tony’s range.

Tony hummed his agreement, pressing the vibration of his voice into Bucky’s skin and enjoying the hitch in Bucky’s breath it shook loose. “The worst,” he said, and traced his tongue along the ridge of the head, finding the most sensitive spots. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“I know what I’d like to do about it,” Bucky growled, slanting Tony a look so black and wicked that it undid him. Bucky blinked a few times, then his eyes widened and he shook himself all over, sending water spraying everywhere, the needful look on his face breaking apart for just a moment before he got hold of himself again. The rakehell smile he put on his lips looked almost genuine. “Enjoy it, no doubt.”

“No, wait, back up a step.” Tony slipped his hands up to Bucky’s hips. “I want to know what you were going to say first. That looked very promising.”

“Tony,” Bucky said, voice straining for unconcern, “nah, that ain’t nothin’.”

“C’mon, you know I like it when you get all dominant on me.”

“There’s a bit _bossy_ ,” Bucky corrected, “and then there’s goddamn deranged, and that second one’s me. It ain’t nothin’ you want a close look at, Tony. Hell, it scares me, and I’m the one thinkin’ it. Told you before, I’m a bad man. Wasn’t lying about it.”

“I’m bossy,” Tony corrected, and suddenly this wasn’t sexy teasing, but real concern. “So very bossy. You, on the other hand, are suppressing something and I’m not sure that’s good for you. I know you’d never hurt me, but now I’m wondering if _you_ know it.”

Bucky sighed, gently pulled Tony to his feet. “If we’re gonna talk about this, I ain’t doin’ it while you’re on your knees.” He stepped out of the shower and got a towel, roughly rubbing water out of his hair.

For an instant, Tony was sorry for pushing, tempted to call Bucky back and rekindle the fire. But if Bucky really thought he was _bad_... He’d said it before, but Tony had taken it in the spirit of the sexy moment, mischievous and teasing. But it seemed to be more than that, at heart, and Tony couldn’t let Bucky go on believing that.

He snagged his own towel and wrapped it around his hips, then caught Bucky’s hand, pulling them together like gravity, and kissed him chastely. “I love you,” he said carefully. “You’re not changing that, whatever you say.”

“I know,” Bucky said. He snitched Tony’s towel and started drying him off gently, like someone who’d been ill and needed care. “Maybe you shouldn’t, but I ain’t gonna throw it away. I… I had a gal, back during the war, she use to say I got all stuck up in my own head sometimes, an’ this is probably just that. Nothing worth fussin’ over.”

“Okay.” Tony waited, patiently amused, until Bucky tucked the towel back around him. “Gonna tell me what this ‘probably nothing’ is, then?”

Bucky sighed. _Not nothing_ , Tony knew. “Come ‘ere,” Bucky led him over to the bed, lay down and arranged Tony so he was tucked under Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t… don’t look at me, ‘kay? Makes it harder to think straight when you’re givin’ me those soulful eyes.”

Tony snorted, but willingly ducked his head so Bucky couldn’t see his face. Whatever made it easier. He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist and tucked his foot between Bucky’s ankles. Present and caring and whatever else was needed. After the last week, Bucky deserved whatever kind of support Tony could give.

“Sometimes I think what Hydra did to me was easier for ‘em, given my nature. I’m a _violent_ man, Tony. Bein’ a soldier is all I ever wanted to do, or be. They didn’t change me, they just pushed me in a different direction. I like to fight, and I love like I fight. You make me so crazy, babe, ‘cause you move like a wounded animal. You think I won’t hurt you, and I don’t want to, except sometimes, I do. I want to… pin you down an’... ” His skin flushed, heating against Tony’s. “Tie you down, tie you up, put a collar on you, mark you, you’re mine, damnit. _Mine_.”  

Oh, good lord, kink panic, really? Tony sighed, half in relief, half in exasperation. “Is that it? It’s been a while since I’ve done that sort of thing, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got a crop or a flogger or something in the toybox. I mean, there’s some limits to exactly how far we can take it, because you’re a lot stronger than the average Dom down at the clubs, and we’re both public figures, but, well, we’ll find a way. I still don’t think you want to hurt me. Not _really_. You just want to make me feel you down under my skin, yeah?”

Bucky gaped a moment, breath whistling in and out of his lungs. “Are you… even kidding me right now? Tony… wha…”

“Oh, Buckybear -- ha, _bear_ \-- you really don’t know, do you? You haven’t looked around on the ‘net for porn and found your way to a D/s site?”

“What do I need blue films for? JARVIS will bring up anything I ask him to from the security cams, if I need help imaginin’ you. Which, for the record, I don’t, usually.”

“Which is sweet, but porn is good for new ideas.” Tony pushed up on his elbow and gave Bucky a stern look. “You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are, buttercup.”

“Only ‘cause you got the sense God gave a hyperactive ferret,” Bucky scoffed.

“JARVIS, show the Big Bad Wolf here some relevant bits of my collection. And put some D/s bookmarks on his tablet.” Tony grinned at Bucky and kissed the tip of his nose. “You’ve got homework now.”

“Lunatic,” Bucky accused him, ruffling the still damp hair. “You gonna quiz me on it later, or somethin’?” He leaned up on his elbow, running the fingers of his left hand over Tony’s skin, just grazing the surface.

“You bet,” Tony said. “The oral exam is tough, but the practicals are fun.” He leaned into the metal fingertips.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Bucky said, his touch light and reverent. “Thought Fate was fuckin’ with me, when she gave me you. It’s more’n I deserve, you know that, right? I ain’t never gonna be good enough for you. But I’ll take it, ‘cause I’m greedy like that.”

“One of these days, I’m going to convince you that it’s more like the other way around. But that’s okay; I’m not planning on letting you get away.”

Bucky slanted a look at him, from under his lowered eyelashes. “Good.” He drew curlicues on Tony’s hip with his finger. Lowering his mouth to Tony’s throat, he nipped, then nuzzled the spot. “Tell me what _you_ want, Tony.”

Tony arched into the touch. “Oh, god. I want... I want you to touch me, I want you to fuck me hard, pull my hair and leave teethmarks in my shoulder when you come in me. I want you to take me apart one piece at a time until I can’t _think_ anymore.”

Bucky smirked. “Well, think I c’n manage that,” he said, “just not all at the same time. Greedy bastard.” And then he went to work to grant all of Tony’s requests. He took Tony’s hand and kissed each fingertip, tasting the pads, drawing Tony’s index finger deep into his mouth and sucking.

“Oh, god...” Tony flopped onto his back and closed his eyes. “If this is what it gets me, I’m being greedy more often.”

He dropped a line of soft kisses along the inside of Tony’s wrist, absently twirling his fingers in Tony’s hair. Reaching the soft skin at the crease of his elbow, he dedicated a few minutes to tasting there. From there, he mapped the territory of Tony’s chest. “Everything about you wrecks me,” he confessed, then flicked his tongue out, teasing the very tip of Tony’s nipple, drawing back as Tony arched up into the kiss, then blew cool air over the slicked skin.

Tony couldn’t quite help the little whine that slipped from his throat. He pushed his hands into Bucky’s hair and rolled his hips, seeking friction against Bucky’s body. “Long’s we’re wrecked together,” he panted. “Oh, Christ, that’s... Bucky, god, _more_.”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows like a ‘20’s film villain. “More? I c’n do that.” And with a wicked, sly chuckle, Bucky slithered down the sheets, dropped his jaw, and took in Tony’s entire length, his tongue pressed firm against the big vein.

Tony nearly levitated off the bed, except that Bucky’s weight pressed him down. “Oh, _shit_ , I-- Bucky, fuck, yes.”

“Hmmm,” Bucky said, pulling himself off slow, steady, then pop. “Did you say something, babe?”

“Oh my god, that’s. That’s cruel and unusual punishment, I’m alerting the Geneva Convention,” Tony whined. He tightened his hold on Bucky’s hair and pushed, knowing full well Bucky wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want to go.

Back down again, slow, slow, taking the full length of him, Bucky closed his lips tight around, making a sensual seal, and then _twisted_ , tipping his neck to one side, then the other, tongue painting a wide swath over the base of Tony’s cock. He kept that up until Tony was keening, then let go, panting for breath and keeping his weight on his hands, so Tony squirmed and pushed up, but couldn’t reach.

“Yep, evil,” Tony panted. “Bucky, _please_...”

Bracketing himself over Tony’s thighs, pinning him in place, Bucky launched a sensual attack against Tony, quick flicks of his tongue, then deep, holding him, swallowing around it, then back to the flicks, no pressure steady enough or long enough to get him there. He nosed around the base of Tony’s cock, taking swift drags of his tongue along Tony’s balls, and along the crease of his thigh, before returning to mouth at his cockhead like an ice-cream cone.

Tony swore and begged, cursed and cajoled, and Bucky alternated between wicked, dark chuckles and crooning false sympathy, but refused to move any faster or let Tony tip over the edge, torture and bliss wrapped together.

“Shhh,” Bucky soothed, or something sarcastically close to it. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. Love you.” And with those words, he gave in, sliding his hands under Tony’s ass and encouraging him with little nudges and the slick opening of his mouth, to thrust. He took a deep breath, then, with an evil wink, _held his breath_ , taking Tony’s full length with ease.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Tony breathed. He closed his eyes -- he wasn’t going to last much longer anyway, but watching the way Bucky managed to smirk even with a mouth full of Tony’s cock was going to undo him just that much faster. Slick heat, soft throat and tongue, Tony groaned loudly as he thrust up and Bucky just let him in, deeper yet, _Christ_. He pulled back and did it again, faster, and Bucky’s hands tightened, thumbs stroking.

“Fuck, Bucky, oh, god, I’m--” and pleasure like lightning rushed through Tony’s body, straight down to his toes and fingertips, as he came.

Bucky swallowed, the pressure in his throat rippling, did it again, his tongue pressing up, milking every drop, and then… he didn’t _stop_. Continued to suck and lick and nibble, past aftershocks, his tongue working over Tony’s oversensitive skin, keeping him pinned down as he writhed and squirmed.

“Bucky, shit, what are you-- shit, oh _god_ , that’s--” He whined and squirmed some more at the ache and jittery overstimulated sensation, but couldn’t quite bring himself to actually tell Bucky to stop.

Bucky tapped his fingers against Tony’s thigh, waited until Tony looked up, then rubbed his fingers, thumb against index and middle, opened his hand.   

Tony whimpered. “How’m I supposed to do anything while you’re--” He groaned and flailed an arm around until he found the bottle of lube under the pillows.

Bucky squinched his eyes half shut, then laughed with a mouthful, the vibrations running down Tony’s cock and straight to his toes.

Tony fought hard to arch at that, despite the way Bucky was holding him down, then flopped back to the bed, gasping. “Evil,” he reiterated, but he flipped the bottle cap open and squeezed lube out into Bucky’s still-waiting hand.

Bucky rubbed his fingers together, slicking them up, then ran one exploratory finger around Tony’s hole, teasing, never letting up with those quick, flicking motions of his tongue. Tony was open-mouthed and gasping for air as Bucky pressed one finger, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, into him.

Finally, finally, Bucky pulled off, panting hard, his face pink with exertion. “Huh…don’t think I’ve ever had anything as fine as your dick in my mouth.” He propped himself on one elbow to fiddle with the lube, watching Tony intently.

Tony sagged with something like relief as Bucky released him. “Hnnng,” he managed. “Not all of us can recover immediately, Energizer Bunny. Gotta give me a few, _Jesus_.”

“You asked,” Bucky said, grinning unrepentantly, wiggling his finger until Tony groaned.

“I did,” Tony admitted. “And you definitely delivered, holy shit. Gonna deliver on the rest of it, too?”

“Gotta breathe a minute,” he confessed. “Nothin’ with this metabolism is free, ya know.” Bucky inhaled, deep breaths, then blew them out. A few more and the color faded from his face.

Tony brushed his knuckles down Bucky’s cheek. “Take all the time you need, honey. God, how did I get so lucky?”

“Fate,” Bucky said, perfectly deadpanned. He rolled his eyes just a little; even when he was being serious, he couldn’t be serious. He waited until Tony opened his mouth, either to protest or argue, or even agree, whatever it was, but the whole thing vanished from Tony’s mind in a soft white haze when Bucky added a second finger, pulled out again, back to one.

Tony’s head dropped back and he groaned, needy. “Yes. Missed this, too.”

“Of course you did,” Bucky said. “Because I’m awesome at it.” He worked Tony with expert hands, sliding one finger in, twisting it. When Tony arched up, Bucky dipped his head and licked at Tony’s cock, just starting to stir, a little bit.

Tony jumped. “Shit, oh, yes. Very, very good, yes. And modest, too.”

“Modesty is my best feature,” Bucky assured him, batting his eyelashes ridiculously. “Here, hang on a sec, wanna see if this works.” He shifted, slid his fingers out, and before Tony could whine, switched hands. “Here, you only get the tip, baby, but…”

“I have never loved you more.” That was beyond hot. It wasn’t even the _sensation_ , so much as the knowledge of it, without even the glove between the metal and his skin... Tony shivered.

“One of these days, when we have time, maybe you can make some upgrades, so this is safer for you. I --“ he wiggled the metal finger carefully “-- think you have more of a thing for ‘bots than you ever want to admit.”

“I admit everything,” Tony said. “I especially have a thing for my hot cyborg boyfriend.”

Bucky did things with his teeth that could be considered criminal, but at the moment, all he was doing was biting his lip while watching Tony squirm. “So… more of this?” His finger moved faster. “Or you want me deeper?”

“I, nng, no fair, I said I _didn’t_ want to think... Uh. No, switch back, it’s been too long and I need you in me.”

“All’s fair, Tony, all is fair…” Bucky slid out, moved. “Roll over for me, huh, baby? On your knees… want you to.”

“Hell, yes.” Tony leaned up for a quick, scorching kiss, then rolled over and pushed up onto his knees. He put his head down on his arms and let his spine curve the way he knew made Bucky just a little bit crazy.

Tony heard the lube bottle top click again, and then Bucky was pushing two fingers in, hot, slick. He got two knuckles deep and then scissored his fingers, stretching, spreading. He dropped a kiss onto the flat triangle of skin just at the small of Tony’s back.

Tony pushed back into the kiss and the fingers, impatient and eager. “C’mon, more,” he begged.

“Greedy,” Bucky chastised, but added a third finger to the mix, opening Tony up. “So lovely, so… god, Tony…” Bucky leaned in, added his tongue to the job, licking short, sweet strokes around his penetrating fingers, teasing at the ring of muscles.

Tony whimpered and panted, straining back. “God, Bucky, please...”

“I got you, Tony,” Bucky whispered. He moved again, slid between Tony’s knees, spread his cheeks apart. “Hold on… I got you.” Easy, slow, he pushed the head of his cock against Tony’s hole, teasing brushes, waiting until Tony’s impatient keening was almost sobbing, then slid home, careful, pushing forward until he was all the way in, til Tony’s ass had spread and taken him all in. “God, _damn_ , look at that. You’re so good, baby, so sweet.”

Tony didn’t make the obvious rejoinder, too busy enjoying the ache and burn of the stretch that had formed a near-Pavolovian connection to _Bucky_ and _pleasure_ in his head. He grunted and shifted on his knees slightly, adjusting until it felt exactly right. “There. Yes.”

Bucky wrapped his metal arm around Tony’s chest, holding him steady, rocked in tight. “Perfect. So good… Ah, Tony, you’re so sweet…” Bucky rocked his hips, working the angle Tony gave him, thrusting light and sensual, against Tony’s prostate with each stroke.

“Here, come on, come on up, baby,” Bucky said. He moved his knees on either side of Tony’s, and bracing himself, pulled Tony upright. “Hands on the wall, brace yourself.”

Probably it should not be so hot, the way Bucky could manhandle Tony as if he weighed practically nothing. It was going to be even better once he’d managed to convince Bucky to let those urges for domination out. Tony put his hands on the wall and carefully shifted his knees again, bracing.

“Perfect, just… right there, yeah,” Bucky murmured, pulling himself close, the entire heat of his skin against Tony’s back. He reached around, found Tony’s cock with his lube-slicked hand and tugged experimentally.

Tony all but howled. “Come on, _fuck me_ , god, _now_.”

Bucky kept a tight grip, holding Tony fast to him, and thrust, up, slow, then quick, then twice slow, and once fast, varying his pace until he found the rhythm that matched him up to Tony’s cries. “There you are, I got you…”

Tony sobbed with relief as Bucky found the rhythm and pushed hard back against each thrust.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, god, baby, I… you feel so good, I… “ Bucky whispered, dark and low against his ear. His breathing was shallow, rapid and the space between them, mere molecules, shimmered with heat and sweat and lust.

“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, come on, I need... _please_...”

“Go on then, you can…” Bucky said. His speed increased, the steady rhythm faltered as he stuttered closer to the edge. He curled his hand, let Tony thrust against it.

Tony lost all words, just gasping and moaning with abandon as he lost himself to sensation. It felt like liquid fire was running through his veins, a heat that consumed all thought and left him teetering on the edge of release for one long moment before he fell.

Bucky grunted with effort, a single harsh sound, then his grip shifted, keeping Tony upright when he went all boneless. As Tony clenched around him, Bucky thrust up, one last time, against the tight, slick muscles and bit down on Tony’s shoulder, teeth digging a shallow dent in the skin there.

Tony sagged back against Bucky’s chest, panting. “Perfect.”

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky said, kissing Tony’s hair, neck, jaw, any part of him that Bucky could reach. “Baby, I’m so glad you’re back with me. Love you.”

“Such a sap,” Tony said, trying for teasing but probably too exhausted and out of breath to make it work. “Love you, too.”

After a few moments, Bucky grimaced and pulled out, then eased them both down to the bed. “I… could sleep for a week. You wear me out, Tony.” He kissed the bite mark, already purpling and swelling.

“Excuse you, _I_ wear _you_ out? I’m not sure I can even stand up right now.” Tony stretched, smugly feeling each ache, and then relaxed into a puddle. “Sleep sounds good. Especially sleep with you next to me.”

“Always,” Bucky promised. “Or at least, until the next time you and Bruce try to science something into submission.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for our readers who’ve come across the stand-alone smut: We wrote things a little out of order and by the time we’d decided on a posting schedule (and then gone back and written [What Gets You Through The Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9185564) and [Michigan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708449), since we actually wrote this piece immediately after we finished [Winter is Coming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8098120)) we’d sort of forgotten that this kink conversation didn’t take place between Bucky and Tony until now. So, just keep in mind, in the timeline, [Every Lover is a Soldier](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708164) takes place AFTER this story… but it doesn't contain any plot-relevant stuff.


	8. Epilogue

_Tony_

Tony and Bucky came into the TV room together. Largely because Bucky was still mostly refusing to let go of Tony for any length of time. Not that Tony was objecting; most of a week in Hulk Room lockdown being unable to touch his lover had completely sucked. Bucky flung himself into their usual corner and pulled Tony onto his lap. “What’re we watching tonight?”

Clint came in from the kitchen carrying a mound of snacks so high it was a minor miracle of some sort of engineering that it wasn’t toppling over, followed closely by Thor, who was lugging a bucket of drinks.

“ _Mad Max, Road Warriors,_ and if I can’t talk them out of it, _Beyond Thunderdome_ , too,” Natasha said, scooting a little closer to Bruce to make room for Clint. Or, possibly, just because she could.

“Good evening, my friends!” Thor exclaimed. “I am glad to see you returned to your proper body,” he told Tony, and then grinned widely at Bucky. “‘Tis good to see you up and about as well. Not many Midgardians recover so quickly, after tangling with the likes of our archer’s skill. We are fortunate indeed, that he was forced to shoot you with merely a disabling round.”

Clint froze, and Tony’s head swiveled around so fast his neck cracked. “Being shot by what now?”

Bucky covered his eyes with his metal hand. “Damn it.” He peeked over the top of his fingers, gauged Tony’s expression and promptly hid his face again. “This is not how I’d planned to do this.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Clint. “You shot Bucky. _That’s_ the hole that was in his leg? You _shot_ him? What the fuck, Barton?”

“I saved his dumb-ass _life_ ,” Clint protested.

“By shooting him,” Nastasha agreed. “We all saw it, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Do you want to tell me how shooting him was supposed to save him?” Tony demanded.

“No. No one wants to tell you that, please, can we just drop it? I’m fine. It healed up. Okay? No need for any more details,” Bucky said, slightly frantic.

Tony turned his glare on Bucky. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s _not_ okay, and if you’re covering for the birdbrain, then I _really_ want to know what the fuck happened out there.”

Steve leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “Told you, jerk, you shoulda ‘fessed up,” he said in his best This-is-your-Captain-speaking voice. “You’re lucky I didn’t bench your ass for the next mission as it is.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky protested. “Clint jumps off fucking buildings _all the time_ and no one gives him shit about it. It was a mistake; I’m not used to working with a team.”

“Clint jumps off buildings when he knows one of us is going to catch him,” Jones pointed out, digging through Clint’s snack pile until she found the Twizzlers. “You’ll notice how much less frequently he does it, since I caught him last time.”

“You have an unholy love for the side of the Baxter Building that none of us comprehend,” Clint pointed out, slapping Jones’s hands away from the KitKats.

Sam snorted, turning the conversation back to Bucky, who was glaring fiercely. “I only gave you shit about diving out a window, _once_. You should hear the amount of shit I’ve gotten from Nat about jumping out of a window. While the damn building was coming down, no less. Face it, soldier, if you didn’t have a team, you’d be dead. Or wishing you were.”

Bucky ducked his chin down, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Not helping, Sam.”

“Did you jump off a damn building?” Tony asked, voice tight.

“No, he’s just a single-minded son of a bitch that runs too fast,” Clint said. “And I didn’t mean to hit him, I was just gonna glue his stupid ass to the sidewalk so he didn’t get himself killed.”

“Sidewalk,” Tony repeated carefully. “No buildings or windows. So what the fuck happened.”

Steve frowned. “He directly disobeyed a disengage order, Tony. He took off after M.O.D.O.K. without backup.”

“You _what?!_ ”

“He was throwin’ civilians at us, what was I supposed to do, _Captain_ , let him get away with that? You saw them. Freakin’ bus drivers. An’ I put one of ‘em through a goddamn wall? That man’s never gonna walk right again because of me.”

Tony could _feel_ the blood draining from his face and his hands starting to shake. “Because of M.O.D.O.K., damn it. And trying to engage that thing solo is a fucking _suicide_ mission, unless your name is Charles Xavier, and maybe not even then!”

“It was the right call, Buck,” Steve said. “We had injured civilians down from smoke inhalation -- remind me I never want to work with Storm again, that kid is crazy -- and none of us were close enough to back you up. He could have turned on you at any second and the last thing any of us wants is to have to fight you again, and he can do that, Buck.”

Tony nodded fervent agreement. Jesus, he’d _seen_ the things the blob had done to people. Bucky’s will was strong, but... He put his hands on either side of Bucky’s face. “You have been controlled by enough evil for one lifetime,” he said firmly. “Don’t do that again.”

“An’ makin’ me shoot civilians isn’t controlling me?” Bucky asked, despairingly. “I don’t want to hurt anybody, Tony, but _I did_.”

“I know it sucks, honey, but at least you had _some_ choice, there. You could disable them and not kill them, and I know that doesn’t seem better, but it _is_.”

“So, yeah,” Clint said, puffing his cheeks up and blowing out a slow breath. “I was the only one even close and if he turned the corner, we were gonna lose eyes on him. It’s not my fault that he took the deployment tube through the leg.”

“You missed,” Sam said, again, eyebrows up. “Just admit it.”

“I did not _miss_. He stayed put, didn’t he?”

“You are digging that hole deeper and deeper, Barton,” Tony snapped.

“Tell me you’d rather I hadn’t, Tony, go ahead,” Clint snarled, baring his teeth in a fierce, not quite smile.

“Of course not. I’m just saying, what the hell, you _know_ how fast he is; practice more or something.”

“It didn’t actually hurt that much,” Bucky said. “Getting it _out_ while it was covered in sticky crap, now that was a little less fun.”

Tony dropped his head into his hands. “You’re not allowed to leave the building without me any more. Ever again. I swear to god...”

“We’ve discussed this before, babe,” Bucky said, more embarrassed than belligerent. “I ain’t gonna hide in your shadow, an’ you know that.”

Thor shook his head. “And thus, one of many reasons why I have committed myself to my lady, Jane, instead. I could never persuade Lady Sif to any such safety measures, she would never have allowed it.”

“Well, and not to mention that Sif thinks you’re _reckless_ ,” Clint muttered, his neck turning brick red for reasons that were unclear. “She likes a little more maturity. Which leaves me out, and that’s a shame, because _damn_ , the legs on that woman… wow.”

“It is true,” Thor said. “Caution and I do not share many moments together, much like our friend, James, here. We see evil in the world, and we are not inclined toward leniency.”

“No one’s asking for leniency!” Tony said without looking up. “A thimbleful of _prudence_ would be appreciated, though. Stop giving me that look, Natasha, I can _feel_ it.”

Bucky sighed. “No, no, you’re right. If _Thor’s_ agreeing with me, maybe it’s time to rethink my position.”

 

 


End file.
